I Shouldn't Have To
by SASundance
Summary: Out of adversity can come great change and personal growth. Sometimes it's easier to settle for second best, sometimes we don't even realise we're doing it, to we feel we don't deserve better. When disaster strikes, it gives us a wake-up call we need to reassess our life, to see what we have is lacking. The courage to say, 'I'm not going to take it any more.' Tony-centric
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

Story Summary:Out of adversity can come great change and personal growth. Sometimes it's easier to settle for second best, sometimes we don't even realise we're doing it, perhaps we feel like we don't deserve better. When disaster strikes, it gives us the wake-up call we need to reassess our life, to see that what we have is lacking. The courage to say, 'I'm not going to take it any more.'

A/N: TThis is a short story that falls into the genre of my Grumpy Old Men persona and has spoilers for Better Angels in season 11. Frankly the whole episode made me furious and when I read a review of the episode by a critic, it was like they'd watched an entirely different show to the one that I had. Phrases like heart warming, team bonding predominated, while I found it so very wrong on many levels. This story is unbeta'ed so please excuse any and all mistakes. The story is already complete and unlike many of my stories it does have a HEA.

Warning: This is a Tony-centric story and not flattering in the portrayal of the team in general. If you see them as a big happy family you won't like this story. You've been warned!

I Shouldn't Have To

Tony looked at the information the doctor had given him to read about the procedure, telling him it was a simple needle guided biopsy that shouldn't even require an overnight stay in hospital. No big deal at all! Although, Dr Christiansen had also cautioned that it was possible that he would also need to have an endoscopic biopsy performed too and if so ,then would need to stay overnight for that since sedation was involved. He'd had a chest X-ray and CT scan done already since his internist was concerned about his persistent cough, problems breathing and chest pain.

Tony really could have done with someone to talk with about his concerns but unfortunately Brad was overseas at some prestige medical symposium, presenting a paper. Ever since pulling him through the impossible double whammy of Y Pestis and pneumonia he'd become the rock star of the pulmonary world – the superhero of the medical podium – liable to leap tall nurses at a single bound and stop speeding enemas with his scary scowl. Now when the poor slub that had made him what he was today needed to see him, the doofus was overseas, dazzling the rest of the dumber docs with his brilliance.

Okay, so call him a bit of a Drama Queen but at least Brad took his not unexpected slight, tiny little aversion to injections… alright his hearty dislike in a totally manful way…fine then… his pathological fear of needles that left him sobbing like a girl, in stride and never mentioned it afterwards. With Brad, what happened in Pittsville stayed in Pittsville – in fact the guy seemed to be blessed with a curious form of amnesia. For which Tony was incredible grateful.

So of course he was always going to prefer to go to see him if he had a medical problem. That hardly made him a wimp – of course it didn't – he faced down crazed killers and terrorists practically every day after all and he even faced hospital food stoically. No, he was no damned coward. Nuh uh – no way.

He'd been in contact with his friend, medical specialist, breaker of Buckeye leg's, destroyer of flourishing professional sporting careers and shatterer of cherished hopes and dreams, about his persistent symptoms. Brad had been adamant that Tony needed to get checked out ASAP and not wait til he returned stateside and so organised a consult with his colleague, Internist Dr Eva Christiansen. After the equivocal results of the X-ray and CT scan he'd emailed Brad to tell him about the proposed biopsy to get his opinion because when he heard the word biopsy he may have freaked out… just a tad. He'd emailed back to urge him to go ahead with it and arranged a Skype call so they could talk.

And he really appreciated Pitt's insight as a friend and doctor but he could have done with his buddy Brad by his side to have a cold beer or two with and to take his mind off the procedures. It wasn't the biopsy that was freaking him out – it was what they might find plus, the damned unbearable wait to have it and the wait to find out his fate. He wasn't great at waiting – okay he sucked big time at being patient.

Him and delayed gratification – not a fan. No way could he have been a Marine sniper like Gibbs, waiting for days until the conditions were right to take a single shot. Of course, he wasn't even a Marine, lacked the fortitude, the focus and discipline – Marines didn't need head slaps.

Later when he chatted to Brad he told Tony that he needed to try to stay calm, that it didn't have to be a tumour – that there were other things they needed to rule out, like fungal infections too. In fact, Brad had pointed out, on Tony's recent trip to Israel and the time he'd spent in vineyards and olive groves, the risk factor when combined with his compromised lungs made contact with fungi a distinct possibility. One that needed eliminating as a matter of urgency. Of course, while it was comforting on the one hand to know that the odds of him having lung cancer were low, when he Googled fungal lung infestations that scared the crap out of him, too. And even if there was a one in a hundred chance of his symptoms actually being cancer, well someone had to be the unlucky bastard who was the one, didn't they?

Brad had smiled as they were winding up the conversation on his iPad. "I really wish I could be there for you, Buckeye but it really can't wait til I'm home. At least I feel better knowing that that wacky team slash family of yours, will be there to support you so you don't have to go through it alone."

Tony smirked. "Yeah, I'll be fine, Wolverine. Good luck with the paper and I'll let you know when I get the results."

"Actually Tony, I requested that Eva CCs your result to my smart phone, so I'll be in touch when we know something definitive. Try not to worry and good luck with the biopsy. You'll be fine."

_Sure someone's going to come at me with a freakin huge needle and shove it into my chest to draw out a bunch of cells. No problemo, amigo! _ However, never one to reveal his fears and weaknesses, even to those closest to him, he kept his personal insights to himself and instead said goodbye.

He'd be fine, just like always!


	2. Chapter 2 Facing Facts

A/N Thanks for all the responses, reviews and follows. I can't believe that I'm having to say this because I thought my aversion to TIVA was well known but this won't ever become a TIVA story. There are plenty of TIVA stories if that's what floats your boat but not here. And victoriantealady: Better Angels was the last episode that actor Ralph Waite (Jackson Gibbs) appeared in before his death last year. He drags Gibbs away from an investigation to help track down a dying fellow pilot from WWII, leaving Tony and Tim to carry on the investigation... and well I think this chapter will remind you of the rest.

This story in unbeta'ed so my apologies for any errors. This isn't a warm and fuzzy chapter so if you view the MCRT through Abby Scuito glasses (similar to rose coloured glasses only pinker - think Barbie girl pink) you might want to back the truck up and get out now. I think that what is the most confusing about the Better Angels episode was the crappy treatment came right out of the blue and was therefore inexplicable ,which makes it difficult to find a rational explanation for what happened.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter One_:_ Facing Facts

Previously:

"Actually Tony, I requested that Eva CCs your result to my smart phone, so I'll be in touch when we know something definitive. Try not to worry and good luck with the biopsy. You'll be fine."

_Sure someone's going to come at me with a freakin huge needle and shove it into my chest to draw out a bunch of cells. No problemo, amigo! _ However, never one to reveal his fears and weaknesses, even to those closest to them, he kept his personal insights to himself and instead said goodbye.

He' be fine, he always was!

And now:

After Tony had shut down the call he decided to head to bed. He wished the biopsy was happening tomorrow, instead of the day after. He just wanted to get it over and done with. It struck him suddenly that he'd never felt quite as alone as he did right at this moment. He could drop in for a chat at Casa Gibbs he supposed, he'd still be up. Tony recalled him making the '_my door is always open to you comment_' back in the day but he didn't feel like imposing since the Boss had Jackson staying over. There was no way he'd intrude on their father and son bonding.

Aw Hell, who was he trying to kid, other than himself, since no one else was dumb enough to fall for his crap. Even if Gibbs weren't spending quality time with his dad Jackson Gibbs, the sweetest damned guy on the planet, there was no way he'd seek him out. That dig Gibbs had made about him returning the boss' plunger when he'd tried to talk to him 'bout Ziva being out of control last year -about him needing an excuse to drop by, had more than a little truth to it. Hadn't Gibbs ever noticed that he'd stopped coming by? Obviously not – he clearly didn't miss him but then again, if ever he needed an abject lesson that Gibbs and McGee were merely colleagues, then today would have been the day.

Seriously, he didn't know what had died and crawled up McGee's ass lately but he'd been a total jackass. That comment about Tony needing sensitivity training when he'd made an irreverent remark about the witness, Mr Spiffy cuz he was making his skin crawl while questioning him, wasn't fair. Of all the team, he was actually the one that looked out for everyone else's feelings and well being, shielding them from Gibbs fury when it threatened to engulf them. Always was the one who took one for the team and in general looked out for everyone's ass, colleague or perfect stranger, regardless. Just like it had been Tony who'd called and warned Tim this summer that someone was trying to wipe out their team even when they'd resigned, thereby saving his six- possibly even his apartment.

Gibbs hadn't exactly worked up a sweat letting them know he was back home again. And if it come to that, where was his legendary gut in not giving them a heads up that someone was determined to arrange funerals for all four of them? Plus he'd been the one who wasted weeks chasing after Ziva to make sure she was safe too. But gallows humour was an necessary part of making sure that the depravity, the blood, the gore of a crime scene didn't take you on a one way trip to eating your gun and taking a one way trip to the morgue.

And let's face it, if you wanted to talk about being insensitive when working a crime scene, he hadn't been the one bitterly complaining about the crappy workmanship of the duffle bag, recently bought when they discovered it was used as the resting place of an unfortunate dead guy. He'd been stuffed into the bag and shoved down a hotel laundry chute, and Tim had been pissed, all because it didn't live up to the buyers' review and was falling apart under the strain. Yet he was the crass one!

And really, with the benefit of hindsight, if Tony had been firing on all fronts instead of still playing catch up, he should have realised that his gut was trying to tell him that there was something hinky about the guy. His gut might not be celebrated like Gibbs but he was the one that thought outside the box, pulling disparate facts together or finding a quirky lead because he was a square peg in a round hole. He was a creative thinker, and big part of that was that he was highly intuitive too, so his reaction to Mr Spiffy should have tipped him off. Of course, he wasn't performing up to his usual standards – he had a few things on his mind.

No, McBitchy had been all too ready to jump down his throat all week long, it wasn't just Mr Spiffy. Honestly, he didn't know what his problem was – he had a lovely girlfriend called Delilah and should be sated and happy. He had his job back again and things certainly seemed to be going well for someone who a few months before was being stalked by that bastard, Richard Parsons from the Inspector General's Office at the Department of Defence over his years of illegal hacking at NCIS. Potentially, he could have ended up facing criminal charges so you think Tim would be doing a happy dance.

Instead though, he was stomping around acting all stroppy, like he had the worst case of constipation and a really bad case of haemorrhoids at the same time. All his barbs were of the distinctly below the belt, stab you in the gonads and then stand there and watch you bleed to death while patting himself on the back smugly, variety. Not even the slightest attempt to pretend that he was joking which was his usual I'm smarter than you modus operandi.

Then when Tony confronted Tim about him stealing his yoghurt all week long, he hadn't shown the slightest sign of remorse – had in fact become more even more belligerent, if that was even possible. Challenged him snarkily that if he didn't want him to steal his yoghurt then he should put his name on it. That was when he had blown his cool.

"I shouldn't have to." He'd declared icily, because it was true.

After all, it wasn't like McYoghurtsnaffler didn't know that the yoghurt didn't belong to him. It wasn't like he was stupid. _Hallo – look at me Mr I've got a Masters in Computer Science from MIT, not to mention Johns Hopkins while you're the dumb jock_ - so there was no way it was an honest mistake. Seriously, if you couldn't leave your food in the fridge of a law enforcement agency without having to worry that a team mate would steal it repeatedly, then what the Hell were they doing here anyway?

If he'd been in the mood to get his own back, Tony would have been tempted to leave a few tubs in the fridge of the Mexican brand yoghurt that was organic and unpasteurized. The one McGee had taken such a shine to on his trip south of the border to guard Abby. Of course food poisoning was serious so he wouldn't have done it, even if it you could get hold of it but a good revenge fantasy might help him to get through a long sleepless night. Honestly though, who didn't know that you had to be careful of food that you ate in third world countries, especially non-bottled water and raw food?

He had to question why Tim would even want to eat yoghurt again after his Mexican experience. With his history of phobias – dogs, heights - you'd expect him to have developed a pretty strong aversion to the dairy snack too, especially since food aversions had a strong survival role. Which made him suspect he was doing it just to piss him off. Tony briefly entertained a mental image of getting him back with a harmless prank like super gluing the sprinkles onto his morning donut but discounted it for several reasons. First off, he had more important things to figure out and perhaps most importantly, pranks and jokes were things he only shared with friends. He'd realised that he didn't qualify as McGee's.

As the senior field agent sat on the couch facing his demons - professional and personal - he thought about the case of the dead Marine Sergeant, Michael Dawson, supposedly killed in an armed robbery. About how that simple phrase he'd uttered to McGee about him stealing his damned yoghurt, could also sum up in a nutshell the epiphany he'd had during the pursuit of the case. When Tony had done his job as McGee's direct superior, his supervisor, his SFA and directed Tim to search for leads from the files sent by Metro PD while Gibbs was out of the office, Tim throwing a petty tantrum that had frankly left him gobsmacked. And didn't that comment of their computer expert/junior agent sum up the whole effing problem?

Tim had pouted when he dumped the files on his desk for him to go through and demanded. "You're really going to insist on taking point? That's insane when it's just the two of us and Gibbs will be back in a couple of hours?"

After more than twelve years it finally hit him. Call him slow on the uptake but hit him over the head long enough and even Anthony DiNozzo would finally get the message. He might have been McGee's senior field agent for the nine years Tim had been on the team, plus the team leader for four months too during Gibbs monumental dummy spit. But while he'd always technically been Tim's direct superior (according to NCIS rules and regs), in McGee's mind and everybody else's including the boss, Tony was just another mindless drone. One of a number of forgettable and ultimately replaceable remora dragged along in the unstoppable slipstream of the great white shark - Leroy Jethro Gibbs – the ultimate of predators. Clearly vastly inferior to the brilliant MIT graduate when it came to skills such writing computer programs, developing algorisms, even field work and directing investigations because he was just a cop. A cop and a big fat joke.

Be that as it may in McGee's universe, the point was Tony told himself, '_that on any other team I…shouldn't… have… to... take point when Gibbs was unavailable.'_ On any other team it would've been a given with no question or debate as he would have already been issuing orders and managing the team even when the SSA was present because that was part of his freakin job description as 2IC. Furthermore on any other team, those orders would have been followed or the subordinates would have been history.

But Tony was kept around like a spare tyre, only to be taken out and used, no pun intended, sparingly when one of the regulars had a really bad puncture. Hell who was he deluding, he wasn't a spare tyre - he was a eunuch that Gibbs kept around to keep TPTB and HR happy. A useless waste of space that was so pathetically eager to earn Gibbs approval, he'd let him emasculate him a long time ago. He was the senior field agent of the major case response team, purely in name only!

Yet, even that particularly limited role of spare tyre/eunuch (did that make him a spare tyre without a valve or a tyre without a rim) even that had been ripped off him. McGee usurped the COC with his juvenile sulking over his stupid obsession with his asinine algorithm. Tim wanted his cake and to eat it too. He wanted to be considered more than the computer expert on the team, to be given UC roles and plum assignments. Yet when faced with the mundane aspects of investigation, he always opted to play the computer and programing card than have to do the grunt work like a normal average agent, because he felt it was beneath him. He always assumed that the computer would spit out a lead - even with his MIT degree he should know by now, it just didn't work that way.

Plus, no matter how many times Tony thought Gibbs was letting his obsessions take priority over best practise, he had never undercut him with any of the three directors. If he had a bone to pick or he disagreed with his boss he solved it like a man, face to face and would never try to have Gibbs removed as the lead investigator. Plus he did it in private so he didn't undermine the Boss. He had too much respect for him and also for the rank he held (even when he was wrong which he was at times) for him to ever go behind his back or was that over his head to the director? Unlike his colleagues ,who obviously felt Tony was undeserving of the same professional courtesy and positively delighted in him losing face. And that included his boss who revelled in making him look foolish, even rewarding Ziva and MacGee's disloyalty instead of kicking their asses over it.

Still it wasn't even that particular truth of his eunuch status on the team … or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it wasn't only that realisation that finally rammed the message home LOUD AND CLEAR. No, there were two further actions that had emphasized the message well and truly in stereophonic surround sound and digital high definition. It had been when they were trying to track down the confidential details of what Sergeant Dawson had been doing for Defence Clandestine Service and getting stymied with the usual classified crap and were at a standstill. That's when Gibbs strolled into the diner where they were eating, to piss up against the metaphoric tree in a classic alpha wolf reminder that he was in complete charge.

In a typical Gibbs-esque manoeuvre he dropped a copy of the confidential DCS file on the diner counter, to illustrate to both agent, his utter superiority in being able to obtain crucial information for the investigation, despite not even being there. Then when Tony attempted to access the information they'd been waiting on to move the investigation forward, he delighted in denying them access to it. Informing him that only he got to look at his copy and that Tim and DiNozzo had to go to the DCS to access the copy of their file, in what was clearly his version of '_this is my deer carcass, you have to hunt down your own.'_

All of which was designed to cement in their consciousness that he might not be actively running point on the investigation, but he was still capable of running rings around either of them and don't they ever forget it for a second. Of course, the fact that they had to waste time going over to the DCS to access data Gibbs already had clutched in his maw, clearly was immaterial. Information that might hold the difference between a murderer getting away or being apprehended, was conveniently overlooked. Even when the murder of an upstanding Marine usually had Gibbs frothing at the mouth, on an obsessive quest to solve the case in the shortest possible amount of time. So determined that the dirt bag was punished asap that he ran his team into the ground until the case was closed, yet that inevitably took a back seat to the importance of putting them in their place today. After all, what was an obsessive desire to seek vengeance for his fellow Marine when compared to him making sure that his team understood their place in the team hierarchy? Clearly nothing!

And the highly personal actions of Gibbs during the case was the final nail in the coffin, as far as Tony was concerned in convincing him he had no place on the team. Although coffin nails probably wasn't a particularly positive analogy to be using, considering his own medical situation. (Still no one ever accused Anthony DiNozzo of being tactful or appropriate - quite the reverse according to Mr McSensitivity.) No it was knowing that Gibbs had deliberately gone to McGee, to Ducky and finally to Abby for help and advice over his problems with Jackson and had left him out. That had stung more than any other realisation. He tried not to think about team dinners but it was not easy.

Tony genuinely loved that old guy Jack but Gibbs clearly didn't want him to have anything to do with his father. Obviously he was worried about Tony giving his dad DiNozzo cooties, since even when they had that first case in Stillwater in Pennsylvania years ago when Gibbs first made peace with Jack, he'd gone to great lengths to try to prevent him even coming along for the case, so he wouldn't meet him. He'd only be allowed to come up when it couldn't be avoided. Clearly, he was such a bad person that the whole team apart from himself could cosy up to Senior aka Mr Wonderful but Jackson had to be protected from his toxic influences. Well he finally would take the hint, he wouldn't trouble any of them anymore.

He had spent pretty much his whole life taking care of himself, he could do it again, no problem. If he was nothing else he was self-sufficient and a survivor. He'd be fine, he always was.

His thoughts returned to perhaps his harshest physical challenges. When he'd nearly died of the plague, he'd been fine. Apart from Cate filling him full of guilt when she lied to him by telling him she had the plague too then taunting him that he was weaker than her for succumbing to the bacteria, he'd been alone then too as he battled to survive. He'd nearly gone to his grave consumed with guilt, thinking he was taking her with him. Maybe that was why even today he still felt guilty about her death, even when logically he knew that there was no way he could have saved her.

Then there'd been Gibbs' version of tough love – a head slap, his phone and an order not to die, which was pretty lame, all things considered. But then no more lame than him giving a crap what the boss thought of him, since he already knew he was weak. After all, in so many ways Gibbs told him so implicitly and explicitly, all the time.

No matter how many times he had his boss' six he would never have his admiration. Not like Gibbs regarded his fellow Marines, his brother's in arms, his brothers of the trenches. Hell even Damon Werth who was a drug addict who beat the crap out of them when they tried to arrest him had earned the genuine respect, admiration and sympathy of the crustily stoic Marine sniper, along with Little Miss Mossad who had fallen at his feet like an impressionable virgin. _Although do impressionable virgins drool?_ Gibbs had even given Werth one of his own medals for Pete's sake. Talk about making a first impression impression.

But Tony would never measure up because he wasn't a Marine, a soldier, an esteemed member of the armed forces – he was just a cop who tried to do the right thing and made a mess of it most of the time.

Maybe that was where Tony had gone wrong, and that was why Gibbs had no respect for him. Maybe he should have beaten the snot out of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, gone running to the director when Gibbs had lost the plot on various occasions. Letting his former boss Mile Franks break the law with impunity came to mind or every time Jethro had turned a blind eye to his Marine mates, perhaps he should have reported him in an attempt to have him removed from investigating cases where he was compromised. Perhaps if he'd bulked up on steroids and growth hormones and weight training so that he could kick the crap out of suspects instead of outplaying them on Tetris, perhaps then he might have won some respect from his mentor. Come to think of it, he'd won a job offer from him after chasing him down, tackling him to the ground and hauling him off to the squad room. He'd always thought that it was his ability to investigate and pull clues out of mid-air that had prompted the offer but still it was clear he was dumb as dirt, so obviously that was pure self-delusion.

No, he Anthony DiNozzo, was perfectly fine alone. He would get through this and if it was just a scare he would work on his fitness and his resume and find somewhere where he didn't have to settle for being a crappy spare tyre that was utilised once in a blue moon. Even if he ended up having to take a demotion because let's face it, he'd turned down so many job offers over the years that they'd begun to dry up, well, he wasn't really performing the practical duties of an SFA anyway. At least if he felt that he was actually being useful and his contribution was acknowledged sometimes, then didn't that have to be better that what he'd been achieving on Gibbs team?

And if the worst happened…oh well… shit happens after all and then you die. He always knew he wouldn't get to make old bones but he'd always thought he'd go out in a blaze of bullets – dying in order to save innocent lives. Maybe he could volunteer for a suicide mission – like Jenn did. There were worse ways to go.


	3. Chapter 3 Retreat

A/N Thank you all for your thoughts, reviews and support of the story. Always nice to know that other people share my feelings too. Just a reminder that this isn't beta'ed so there will be boo boos. Sorry about that!

Okay a bit of a heads up cuz this is a short story - well short for me. I know people will want more - more details, more confrontations or interactions, more exposition as to why certain expected actions don't occur. Not going to happen. So I'll try to give some answers in the author notes. Some of you wonder if Tony will seek out others on the team? He won't - my rationale is that he is getting ready to crawl away and lick his wounds, physical and emotional. He always turns inward when he is struggling and in this case he thinks that if he does leave or the worst happens and he does a Shepard then he needs secrecy to carry it out. Just like Jenny did. So he thinks it's easier all round to keep the whole biopsy a secret.

Warning: This has reflections on Ziva that I can guarantee will offend some people. Doesn't mean that they aren't true but since there are an abundance of fan fics written about her, I can't see the point in reading this and then complaining about being offended. Unless you're into self flagellation - in which case, far be it for me to stand in your way.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 2 Retreat

Previously:

He had spent pretty much his whole life taking care of himself, he could do it again, no problem. If he was nothing else, he was self-sufficient and a survivor. He'd be fine.

And if the worst happened…oh well… shit happens after all and then you die. He always knew he wouldn't get to make old bones but he'd always thought he'd go out in a blaze of bullets – dying in order to save innocent lives. Maybe he could volunteer for a suicide mission – like Jenn did. There were worse ways to go.

And now:

Dr Brad Pitt stared at the medical file on his laptop. Chiefly, the histopathology report from the endoscopic lung biopsy and cursed loudly and long. How could one guy be so freakin damned unlucky?

Tony was a fit and healthy guy, apart from his bad luck to have contracted the plague and double pneumonia that stuffed up his lungs that is. He exercised regularly, ate a reasonably healthy diet except when he was working cases and lived at the office. He drank alcohol in moderation and didn't smoke. Yet his friend had ended up with a tumour in the lungs, not unlike the case of the celebrity Dana Reeve, heroic wife of Christopher Superman Reeves, and boy didn't their luck stink, too.

Brad Skyped called his buddy to discuss the results, having offered to discuss his options after conferring with his internist friend, Dr Eva Christiansen who he'd referred Tony to in his absence. His friend had seemed almost fatalistic about the diagnosis and as the talked over his options exhibited flat effect – a dramatic change to his normal quicksilver demeanour. Pitt really wished he was back home already so he could give his friend his support in person but the medical conference was still winding down. Still, perhaps an ill wind and all that. One of his colleagues that he'd done some post grad work with back in his Harvard days, was doing some exciting experimental trials into new cancer drugs that held promise for the type of cancer Tony was facing. Once Tony had had the tumour resected of course, especially if they got clear margins, it might be viable option. He'd no more after talking to his friend. Of course now he would need to have exhaustive full body scans and blood tests to make sure that this was the primary and there were no major secondaries that needed to be contended with as well.

He was going to go to see Dr Gioanna Parisi tomorrow at the European Institute of Oncology in Milan, on his way back home to the States. She was going to give him a tour of the facilities and Brad would take Tony's medical file and biopsy report so he could charm, beg or blackmail Gia so Tony could be considered for a place in their clinical trial. The institute treated many patients from across Europe already and even language wouldn't be an issue, as Tony was fluent in Italian already. With his inheritance from his Uncle Clive, Tony could also afford to pay the rather considerable cost of treatment on the Continent.

Concerned about Tony's emotional state, he decided to call Donald to check up on him. Not that he thought that he would do anything hasty or anything but he did have two parents with a history of substance abuse who had done an excellent job of damaging Tony in his formative years. To others he was the life of the party, the extrovert, the unsquelchable guy that you couldn't offend no matter how much you tried. Unfortunately, that was all very much an act to hide a highly sensitive self- questioning introvert who never felt that he was good enough. Which was why he shied away from meaningful relationships since he a) didn't feel that he deserved happiness or b) was good enough to make anyone else happy, either.

So yeah, he was concerned about his friend. His choice of career, his solitary lifestyle, his proclivity to get injured, and his high risk behaviours all spoke to an individual that wasn't completely anchored to remaining alive under any and all conditions. Having just been told you have lung cancer isn't exactly the most optimal of situations and he was going to need as much support as they could provide to guide him through the rocky times. So yeah, a call to the elderly ME was definitely on the agenda tomorrow. Regrettably, it was too late for him to call Dr Mallard now.

ISHT

Brad opened up his Skype account and selected Dr Mallard's avatar, clicking on the video call option and waited. If he had calculated the time differential then it was approximately 0830 back in DC and hopefully the good doctor was taking the time to indulge in his favourite tipple – a freshly brewed pot of Prince of Wales tea.

"Good morning Bradley, dear boy," the mellifluous tones of the medical examiner answered his Skype call. "What can I do for you today?"

"Hi Donald, did Tony mention that I'm here at a medical symposium in Verona?"

"I don't believe so, lad but I do recall hearing someone at Bethesda mention it when I was out there last week. Everyone is very proud of your accomplishments, Bradley. Congratulations."

"Um thanks, Doctor. Are you busy?" Brad asked.

"No Lad. In fact, if I wasn't worried about jonahing myself, I would make a flippant comment about it being blessedly quiet but that might invite the gods to send me a new friend to remind me to remain humble." Ducky chuckled merrily. _Someone had obviously gotten up on the right side of bed, this morning._ "So instead I'll inquire obligingly if I can be of assistance, although clearly you have some reason for ringing." He observed good naturedly.

Okay, Brad was not getting a good feeling about this. If Tony had already told Ducky the results of the biopsy he wasn't picking up any verbal cues, he seemed far too cheery. "Well I was wondering if you could write up a couple of scripts for Tony, his emergency inhaler and his usual antispasmodic since I might be delayed here for a couple of days," he lied. A white lie he told himself. "I just remembered this morning that I told Tony I'd be back sooner and could write up the scripts for him. I'd appreciate if it's not too much trouble, Donald."

"Yes I can most assuredly do that for Anthony. Easily fixed, Bradley."

"Thanks Donald, I'd appreciate it. How is he doing, the last time I spoke to him he seemed a bit down or tired perhaps." Brad figured he wasn't breaking his Hippocratic Oath with such a general inquiry and he did have genuine concerns for his friend's mental state.

"Ah yes indeed, dear boy. Affairs of the heart, I'm afraid. He has been depressed since he returned from Israel. I'm afraid that Ziva has broken the poor boy's heart but even rejection can't keep our resilient young man down for long. I'm sure he'll be back to annoying his team mates in no time. He just needs a little time to crawl into a hole and lick his wounds in private."

Brad heard another voice in the background and decided to end the call before he spoke out of turn. It wasn't a voice he recognised so he guessed another agent needed to speak to the ME. "Okay Donald, thanks for doing that for me, I'll catch up with you later…Bye."

"Buon viaggio Dr Pitt. Ciao," Ducky reciprocated before turning back to explain an anomaly in the PM of PO Flores to Special Agent Hopkins.

ISHT

Brad closed his laptop and thought about his call. It seemed clear that Donald Mallard didn't have a clue about Tony's diagnosis. Not only that, he wasn't even aware of his having a biopsy to begin with. If he was, he would have given him some sort of indication or been concerned about Tony but he seemed in altogether too good a mood to not have been informed that something was seriously awry. Pitt wondered why Tony hadn't talked to Ducky – he knew how fond he was of the ME and how he turned to him for help whenever he had medical concerns. He wondered who he'd turned to instead but mostly the revelation that Ducky knew nothing increased his own gut feelings that Tony wasn't coping well with the situation.

He tried to figure out who he could call to check up on Tony but do it without betraying any patient confidentiality issues. He came to the conclusion that there wasn't anyone at NCIS apart from Donald. Even calling Jimmy Palmer would be highly suspect even if he was now a doctor, which would have been the most logical and least suspicious person for Brad to call or Tony to confide in. Perhaps Brad calling Abby was a little more plausible but certainly enough out of character for it to trigger gossip and conjecture – that is if Tony hadn't confided in them. Which frankly didn't make sense to Brad. He always declared the team, along with the extended members i.e. Donald, Jimmy and Abby to be his family so surely Tony had told at least one of them what he was going through- hadn't he?

He would have talked to Gibbs at the least, after all he'd resigned the job he loved more than anything else, to protect Jethro from being fired. Jethro should be honoured that Tony's regard for him had achieved what crap treatment, betrayal by directors and Sec Nav, less than suitable DC weather conditions for his lungs and promotions to Spain and a variety of job offers had failed to achieve , in the years Brad had known Tony. Tony gave up his job, along with Ziva and Tim and took the blame for Gibbs playing too fast and loose with the rules, to save his six. Which considering his surfeit of rules, written and otherwise and his insistence that everybody observes them – was pretty damned ironic when you stopped to think about it.

Even more ironic had been that Tony, out of the four person MCRT had been the only one that hadn't been singled out as being culpable for the law breaking that Gibbs sanctioned but he'd sacrificed his job anyway. That was pretty damned loyal and being that close to his boss, surely he'd have shared his problem with Jethro.

The former Wolverine snorted disdainfully at Donald's simplistic assessment of the situation with Ziva. Tony felt like he'd failed her by not preventing her from embarking on a path of retribution over her father's death. He was convinced her conscience would plague her as she got older when she was forced to confront what she'd done, although confidentially, Brad wasn't as sure. Abusive, angry individuals with sociopathic tendencies were selected to train as assassins for a reason which didn't usually include having the capacity to regret past actions but Tony always chose to see the good in the people he loved.

Tony truly thought that with the passage of time, toss in emotional distance, it would become increasingly difficult to live with her actions, including how her own actions or perhaps lack of action contributed to Jackie Vance's death. Brad thought that compulsion to see the good in people – other than himself that is - was why he got caught up in his unstoppable urge to save a teammate when they got into trouble. It certainly wasn't the first time she triggered his Sir Galahad persona into riding to the rescue even if her damsel was in distress about as much as a black mambo snake felt compassion for its prey. It simply wasn't in their nature so even if the Buckeye had managed to deceive himself that they might be able to be there for each other as a couple – at least for five minutes - Ziva didn't need or appreciate being saved.

So Brad was super relieved when Ziva had refused to come back to the States and Tony had returned alone, even knowing his friend felt he'd failed a member of his team, and that team to Tony was tantamount to family. There was no one more important in his world and nothing too important to sacrifice when it came to family. So coming back without her must have been a bitter pill to swallow after all he'd done for her but she would never be capable of any degree of reciprocity. He was reminded of the Aesop's fable – The Frog and the Scorpion.

Frankly, the very thought of Tony getting together with that particular female made him want to throw up. Tony might love her as a member of his family or more perhaps but to Brad he could only see her as a vicious killer, a manipulative hypocrite and a physically and emotionally abusive person who didn't ever hesitate to take out her anger and frustrations on his friend. He'd been the one Tony had sought help from when she'd attacked him in Tel Aviv and come close to killing him. Even with his innate desire to protect one of his own, once he'd become loose lipped enough after receiving analgesia, he'd admitted that Ziva had come far too close to pulling the trigger.

Although, typically Tony was quick to forgive, rationalising that she was grief-stricken and it was his fault, Brad as an unbiased bystander was far less lenient since he knew that she was frequently emotionally abusive – dismissive, disparaging and spiteful. Not to mention constantly threatening physical harm to those around her. If Tony had commenced a romantic relationship with the former Mossad officer he would have been highly concerned for his welfare because someone as sensitive, damaged emotionally and with his compulsive need to forgive such a walking psychological time bomb would be nothing short of a disaster for his friend.

So when Tony had returned to the States feeling an overwhelming sense of failure about not bringing home one of his team, Brad while being a good buddy and assuring him he hadn't failed her or the team, was inwardly doing the happy dance. At least now that she was back in Israel, Ziva couldn't hurt him anymore and hopefully Gibbs would replace her with someone who was more psychologically sound.

Although, of all the team, he would have expected Donald with his psychological training to have a better handle on the situation. To also assume that Tony could keep taking hit after hit to his body or his psyche, and have him bounce back with no ill effects was sheer idiocy. They both knew that it was cumulative, no matter how good an act he played, or how many 'I'm fines' that he uttered. Didn't they see the weariness in his eyes and his step? Why did they all persist in seeing him as that dumb blow-up clown Bobo that they could use, abused, kick, spit and void various other bodily functions upon and have him spring back as if nothing had happened.

What was wrong with these damned people, anyway? Maybe that was why he hadn't told anyone. Tony the Blow-up Clown had to keep bouncing back since a puncture would result in Bobo being discarded in the trash, replaced with a brand-new, fresh out of the bag , unblemished Bobo.

Granted, all this speculation wasn't addressing Brad's current concerns about Tony's welfare and he wracked his brain trying to think of a solution. After metaphorically beating his head against the wall for a while, he belatedly thought of Emma Ingham – his trusted nurse. She'd recently started working with Brad again after resigning five years ago to follow her musician boyfriend to London to work and live. When the romance of the century went belly up in an angst filled clichéd scene involving another woman, Emma had returned home to the States and begged Brad for a job again.

She'd always had a soft spot for Tony, having seen how hard he'd battled to overcome the plague and pneumonia when she nursed him through what was probably one of the most frightening times of his life. She'd been impressed at how Tony had kept his sense of humour, even while drowning as his lungs filled up with fluid. Brad knew he could trust her discretion when it came to his friend's desire not to be pitied or seen as weak – damn his father to the eternal fires of Hell! And Gibbs too for doing a bang up job of reinforcing that message.

Calling his nurse and trusted friend, he outlined his concerns briefly, not having to worry about discussing his medical condition with his nurse. "So Em, I was wondering if you could contact him and make sure he's all right. I don't think he's told anyone about the biopsy or the result and… well he just sounded weird when I talked to him last night."

Emma Ingham nodded empathetically, knowing that Tony was a good friend of Brad's. "I'm sorry Brad - that sucks so much! You'd think he deserved a break from the Fates, wouldn't you? But Hon, you know how intensely private Tony is. I can't just rock up. You have any suggestions that will give me an in with him?"

Brad chuckled, mainly at the notion that Emma had nursed him one time and had limited contact since but still managed to accurately read the guy that most people underestimated, on a daily basis. "Yeah, Em. I was thinking that you could schedule him in for his appointments with the surgeon and oncologist. Maybe meet up for a cup of coffee," he explained, hopefully.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I take it you want me to get onto it ASAP?"

That's affirmative, Nurse Awesome." Brad thanked his nurse, knowing that their level of familiarity made a lot of people think they were more than colleagues – well everyone except his wife, of course. The truth was that they were really good friends, their friendship forged by the crises they faced over the years. He also knew that Em was the epitome of professionalism and sensitivity and would look after Tony for him til he got back.

Hanging up, he felt so much better. Buckeye was in the best of hands. Grabbing Tony's medical file and his luggage he made his way down to the lobby to check out of the hotel and pay his bill. The concierge had organised for a hire car to be waiting so he could drive to the Institute at Milan. A very important discussion with Giovanna about her oncology trial awaited – and hopefully a long overdue change of luck.


	4. Chapter 4: Choices

A/N: Thank you everyone for your reviews, notes and favs. Glad people are enjoying the story. It is unbeta'ed so I'm sure there will be boo boos - sorry:(

Okay... I'm going to play it safe and issue a warning here about Gibbs. He may seem OOC in this chapter although I personally don't think so. He is however placed in a situation that he doesn't usually find himself in, where people actual thwart his attempts to find out what he sees as information that he is entitled to. Usually if he behaves badly enough on the show, people back down and give him what he demands. So it's hard to say what his reaction will be if someone stands up to him. Given his anger management issues, I don't see how he reacts in what follows to be implausible (obviously since I wrote it). As to my rationale as to why he treats Tony like a pile of crap, I know people have lots of theories about why but to me, his shit eating grin after he does it speaks of someone that is cognizant of what he's doing and also gets satisfaction from seeing him suffer. That and there is no incentive for him to change his behaviour. since everyone excuses him by saying he's a bastard. I should also warn you that there is some bad language of the F-bomb variety.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter three: Choices

Tony requested a leave of absence for a week for personal reasons but refused to explain why he needed the time off, so Gibbs had denied his request, citing all the time that he'd used up chasing down Ziva and that they were one team member short already. Tony had simply nodded his acceptance and Gibbs had thought that would be the end to it. Frankly DiNozzo had been off his game recently, ever since the team got back together really, but he'd been particularly unfocused lately, taking extra-long lunch breaks or coming in late to work and he'd been sulking in the bull pen. Quiet and not full of his usual yabba-yabba so definitely something on his mind. Either he was working undercover for Vance or SecNav again without informing him of the fact or he was still in a huff because Gibbs had told McGee to take point in the investigation of the dead Marine Sergeant Dawson.

Even though he'd been away from the office, he'd still heard the water cooler gossip about how pissed DiNozzo had been about it which was essentially why he'd done it. He enjoyed getting under DiNozzo's skin because he was always trying so hard to maintain a mask and make it hard to read him. Somehow getting a reaction out of him just felt so damned good, it always put him in a great mood afterwards and that had to be a win win situation for the whole team. So he wasn't about to feel bad about treating Tony like a piece of dog shit. If he didn't like it he shouldn't make it so easy for everyone to treat him like crap. He really had no one but himself to blame.

When it was 0830 and Tony hadn't shown up for work today, he was getting ready to order McGee to put a bug up DiNozzo's ass and tell him to get his worthless butt into work. That's when he received an email from HR informing him that Anthony DiNozzo was on personal leave for the rest of the week and it had been approved by Director Vance. Exploding and picking up his cell phone he threw it across the bull pen, smashing it before yelling at McGee and telling him to call his SFA and order him to get in here ASAP as he ran upstairs to the director's office. His suspicions about an undercover mission confirmed, he was going to rip several people a new one and emphasise once and for all that he wasn't to be left out of the loop ever again.

Returning to the bullpen twenty minutes later he was frustrated and in a foul temper, but no further along in finding out where DiNozzo was and what he was doing. Leon had refused to confirm or deny that Tony was on an undercover mission. He cited need- to-know and informed Gibbs that he didn't need to know, before refusing to be drawn further and that was despite the mother of all tantrums that he had unleashed. Finally realising that he was being toyed with, and he'd get nothing else from Vance he descended to the bullpen to strategize his next move. Essentially, his plan consisted of snatching McGee's phone since his was in pieces to call DiNozzo every five minutes, screaming threats down the phone to call him or else. He had Abby trace his phone but it was switched off so no help from that avenue either to locate his UA agent.

He ordered McGee to get hold of DiNozzo's personnel file, knowing that it would have the paperwork for his leave in it. Although McGee initially looked as if he was going to refuse that directive, one look at his boss seemed to dispel any notion of refusing to hack for reasons that seemed to be frivolous at best after his dodging of the Parson's bullet. Sighing, he made short work of obtaining his team mate's records but it looked as if someone had anticipated them because apart from the approval, there was nothing else filed. He suggested to Gibbs that they may not have scanned in the data but retained it as paper copy only if it was need to know.

So of course he'd threatened Delores Whatshername down in HR to tell him the reason for DiNozzo's leave of absence but the officious busybody cited confidentiality regulations with a supercilious smile. It annoyed the crap out of him to be thwarted at any time but since he'd been blocked at every turn he longed to push her aside and rifle through her blessed records to find out what was going on. Why couldn't she just tell him what he needed to know? It was easier all round when everyone just gave him what he needed.

Instead, he had to settle for interrogating the team and other people that DiNozzo worked with or was chummy with - which was pretty much the whole damned building, since privacy seemed a foreign concept to the former cop. Strangely with all the chatting he did at work, no one knew why he'd taken personal leave, although many felt that something was bothering him. Not even Ducky or Abby had a clue and he wasn't at his apartment. All he could do was wait until he returned to work next week and rip him a new one for disobeying his direct order turning down his request for leave.

Meanwhile, with just Tim in the bullpen they weren't exactly a productive team, especially when he kept running off to the head constantly. Watching the other SFAs on the floor collapse into hysterical peals of laughter every time he had to bolt to the bathroom with a desperation that suggested a severe case of gastro, Gibbs figured out he'd been pranked. Some surreptitious investigation revealed several empty containers of chocolate yoghurt with DiNozzo's name on them in the trash near McGee's desk that he'd obviously consumed for breakfast. Marcus Mendez and Karen Whitman, two SFAs confessed to rather liberally lacing DiNozzo's chocolate yoghurt snacks with Ex-Lax. Seems they were pissed at McGee's treatment of their colleague last week, citing his hurtful remarks – some crap about the size of the former cop's head, his failing to respect the chain of command and constantly stealing Tony's food.

Since they hadn't spiked Tim's food and he'd knowingly consumed food labelled as someone else's, Medez and Whitman's team leaders declined to discipline them, claiming that McGee had no one to blame but himself. Gibbs got the distinct impression that they also endorsed the intent behind the prank, although they stopped short of saying so since he took a dim view of interference in his team. But their huge grins when Tim took another trip to the head were telling. Still, by knowingly eating food with someone else's name on it, McGee made it hard to argue that he hadn't been hoisted on his own petard.

Also, with all the SFAs offering to do Tony's paperwork during his week long leave, it was difficult for him to get too precious about it since they could easily tell him to go bite himself. Deciding that McGee had made his bed, so now he'd just have to lie in it, even if it was a cubicle in the head and a raw ass. Gibbs focused instead on what he'd do to DiNozzo anatomy when his week of leave was up.

Unfortunately, Gibbs never got his chance to rearrange Tony's anatomy or demand answers to his many questions either. Awaiting him instead of Anthony DiNozzo next Monday was a request for extended medical leave signed by Dr Brad Pitt. Gibbs read the form with disbelief.

"What the Hell is this, Leon? Some sort of damned façade to hide an undercover Op that you won't tell me about?"

Vance sighed long sufferingly. "No Gibbs, it's nothing less or more than what it seems. DiNozzo has requested an extended leave of absence due to medical reasons that have been verified by his doctor. Unless you're suggesting he is complicit in 'the undercover mission' as well? As DiNozzo's paperwork is all in order and he is entitled to take said medical leave, I have granted the request and also spoken to him briefly. He indicated he is seeking medical treatment for his medical condition overseas and that his diagnosis is serious. He has asked for me to give you this," and the director handed over a letter addressed to Gibbs.

Taking it from Leon he stared at DiNozzo's distinctive scrawl that Jethro knew almost as well as his own. Ripping it open in fury he stared at the note – it would be wrong to call it a letter. After more than 12 years working together he didn't warrant more than a one page note? That was pretty damned insulting. Glaring at the words he read them disbelievingly.

Dear Boss,

By now you will have heard that I have left the country to receive treatment. I was diagnosed with a tumour and had surgery last week. I've been lucky to be offered a spot in a clinical trial for a new experimental chemotherapeutic drug to treat the type of cancer I have. I have decided to proceed to the clinic to continue recuperating from my surgery and also undertake the myriad of medical evaluations that are necessary prior to my formal acceptance in the trial. I therefore am unable to make appropriate good-byes to everyone at NCIS and trust that you will pass them along for me, on my behalf. Thanks in anticipation.

Thank-you for the opportunity to join your team. My prognosis isn't great unfortunately but this trial offers at least some hope of a cure, remission or perhaps more realistically, some extra time. Should a miracle remission take place and the doctors clear me to return to work at some stage, I wish to inform you that I will be requesting a transfer to a different field office, maybe overseas although those details are vague right now. I regret my inability to provide you with more notice but I urge you to go ahead and appoint Tim as your senior field agent immediately and not hold open the position in the hope that I might return. Make sure he watches your six since I invested too many years for it to be shot up now. Take care.

My gratitude for all your assistance over the years

Anthony D. DiNozzo

Scowling Gibbs raced out of the office and down the stairs to grab his wallet, creds, gun and car keys and took off without a word to McGee. Truth to tell he was too angry to speak, let alone issue orders. This had to be some sort of bizarre practical joke and he was going to insert his boot so far up DiNozzo's ass that he'd be singing crap. Fuming as he drove across town, he ignored his cell phone that rang continuously, noting as he ignored it that McGee and Leon were taking turns pestering him. Pulling up at DiNozzo's apartment he leapt out and raced up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the stupid elevator to arrive. and didn't his knee thank him for that. Banging on the door without getting a response he took out his lock picking implements, prepared to let himself in.

Tony's next door neighbour stuck his head out of his front door. "Chillax Dude. Tony left yesterday, said he was going away. Didn't know if or when he'd be back."

Gibbs punched the wall in fury. "Damn it! Did he leave you a forwarding address?"

"Sorry Man, he looked too bad. I didn't like to ask. He didn't look like he'd last too long, if you want my honest opinion. You could try NCIS where he works, his boss will know. According to Tony the guy's a paragon, personally, I think he sounds like someone sewed his asshole shut. Ask for Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Dude."

Gibbs didn't respond to that oh so annoying advice, scowling at the neighbour and stomping off in high dudgeon. What the Hell was wrong with DiNozzo? And of more immediate relevance was what he going to do now to find out where DiNozzo had gone and why he'd behaved like such a jackass.

Suddenly recalling that it had been Brad Pitt who'd sign the medical certificate verifying his medical leave, Jethro was off again, the bit between his teeth. He was going to be having a chat with the good doctor, since he obviously knew what the Hell was going on. Jumping back in the car he headed off to Bethesda, ignoring the constant ringing of his cell phone. He was too furious to talk!

Storming into Brad Pitt's office despite ineffectual bleats from his receptionist to say that Brad was busy, he looked around and saw his office in chaos but no patients having a consult. He heaved a sigh, not that it would have stopped him getting answers had he been seeing someone but it just made life less complicated. Certainly Brad's usual friendly demeanour was missing but that was fine by him. He was in a shit of a mood too.

Tossing DiNozzo's pathetic slap-in-the-face of a note on Brad's desk, he demanded. "What the fuck is this supposed to be? What does he expect me to do with this?" He ranted and paced before sweeping a bunch of files off the desk because he really wanted to hurt someone and property damage was the lesser of two evils.

When Brad just glared at him and remained silent, he grabbed him by the lapels and got right up in his face. "Tell me where he went!"

Pitt curled his lip in contempt. "No!"

Unsurprisingly, that pushed him over the edge. Jethro saw red, his blood pressure spiked as his head began to pound alarmingly and he heard a whoosh, whoosh in his ears as he wound up and delivered a right hook to Pitt's jaw. "WHY DIDN'T HE TELL ME?" He roared.

Brad had seen the contracted pupils, the flared nostrils, knew the punch was coming and tried not to flinch. He glared at Gibbs before finally responding. "He was following orders, your order you bastard."

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"You told him once that you were fine with him dying but to go off and do it quietly. He took your advice to heart."

Continuing to glare at the stricken man who started shaking him angrily, he growled. "Let me go, Gibbs or I swear, you'll regret it."

"I didn't mean it... it was a joke… we were in the middle of a case… I was busy…" he spewed out in an uncharacteristic display of excuses.

"Oh please, Mr I Never Lie. You can delude yourself but don't waste that crap with me. I know better. Your actions over the years have spoken louder than words. You all treat him like crap for years, tell him it's a joke and expect it to be water off a ducks back to him but it's not. God only knows why but Tony looked up to you - he internalises every single blessed thing you say to him."

Picking up a box of files he placed the lid on, labelled and stacked it on top of another. "Now if you excuse me, I've been offered a sabbatical and since my friend and most important patient no longer requires my special services in DC, I'm taking an offer to work somewhere new and warm for a bit. Frankly I'm disgusted with you lot and can't wait to get jack of you." He finished disgustedly. "Now if you don't mind, I have a lot to organise while I'm gone."

When Gibbs stood there, still in the doctor's personal space, the lapels of Pitt's lab coat clutched in his fists. Brad broke his grasp and planted his right palm on Gibbs sternum, pushing him back gently. "Go!" He ordered the federal agent who finally departed when Emma Ingham entered the room to see what all the yelling was about. She'd heard them down the corridor, as had everyone else.

ISHT

"Looks like you were right to have Tony's medical records filed under a fake name, Hon. What's the betting that he's going have someone hack into our records?" Emma observed drily.

_Yeah he'd like to be as sure of picking the right lottery numbers as he was that McGee would be directed to hack into Patient Records. Gibbs was nothing if not consistent and predictable. Still he really doubted they'd connect Buck Iycson to Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo._

Brad regarded his friend. "I guess you heard, then?" At her nodded assent, he made a moue of regret. "Sorry Em, I was going to tell you that I decided to accept Giavonna's offer of a sabbatical at the Institute. Lara and I talked about it and apart from it being a good move for my career professionally, we can be there to support Tony through the trial and the radiation treatment. He needs someone in his corner."

"I've spoken to the other docs in the department and several leapt at the chance of having you work with them until I get back." He looked at her speculatively before making his next suggestion. "Or if you fancied an extended working holiday for the next four to six months in Milan, the European Institute of Oncology has agreed that I can bring you along, too. Lara's really looking forward to the locations and the light for her painting but she'd welcome your company, I know. Her Italian is not great."

Emma looked uncomfortable. "Thanks Brad, I appreciate you thinking of me like that but I have to turn down your offer." She seemed to be debating internally before giving an embarrassed grin. "I've already accepted a temporary new job since I anticipated that you'd be heading over to Milan. Too many years together Hon," she said when she saw his surprised expression. Choosing her next words carefully, she continued. "I don't really feel comfortable working at the Institute – it wouldn't be professional or ethical. I've lined up a job at the American International Medical Centre."

Seeing her blush Brad did a double take. "Do you mean … you and Tony?"

Ingham giggled, "Not yet, no but I'm working on it. He thinks it's not fair to start something when he might not survive but I plan to change his mind. I can be pretty convincing."

_Having seen her powers of persuasion at work, Brad would have to agree with that assessment. Tony didn't have a ghost of a chance._

"I think there's no better time than the present and since I've already seen him at his most vulnerable, I figure that's one obstacle that we don't have to worry about."

Grinning, despite his split lip and throbbing jaw he grabbed Emma in a delighted hug, warning her sternly not to hurt the Buckeye although he knew she wasn't likely to. Damn, she was a fast worker. No wonder Tony seemed more positive and had agreed to enter the trial. _Go Em!_

He decided that Tony's chances just improved dramatically and he wondered if the four of them could share accommodation over there so that when Tony wasn't at the Institute they could help take care of him. He also wondered if Emma could leave immediately so Tony had her to support him ASAP.

Lara still needed a few more days to get things organised before they left, especially all her art gear, as did he. Packing up his practise for half a year took some organising. Although Giovanna had promised to take good care of DiNozzo, somehow he thought Emma would do a much better job.

ISHT

Meanwhile Gibbs was reeling as he made his way back to NCIS. He knew that Abby and McGee would start tracking DiNozzo's digital shoeprints and Ducky could call in his vast number of contacts at Bethesda to access his medical file and find out what was wrong and where he'd gone. Of course there was no guarantee that he'd reveal what he knew since he'd probably quote that HIPAA crap and doctor patient confidentiality, or was that the Hippocratic Oath? Whatever… he wasn't without his own secret weapon.

Glancing at the leather bound journal that he recognised as the one that DiNozzo used compulsively to record his thoughts about cases that were bothering him and his work, he thanked his good fortune for seeing it and secreting it inside his jacket when he swept that pile of crap off Pitt's desk. He was sure there would be information in it that would lead him to where DiNozzo had disappeared to.

Of course, what Gibbs hadn't factored into the equation was that in order to find the information he wanted, he'd have to trawl through a lot of extremely unpleasant and painful home truths about himself and the other members of his team. Information that he hadn't a clue about. Which was galling in itself, since he prided himself that his all-seeing, all knowing gut missed nothing. Yeah right!"


	5. Chapter 5: Painful Insights

Disclaimer: Forgot to state previously that I make no money from this story. If anything I'm well in the red with things like warm milk when I can't sleep because the characters and plots won't leave me alone when I go to bed. Gets pretty damned crowded at times :D

A/N: Thank-you to everybody who is following and reviewing. As anyone who reads my work probably knows, I have finite access to the internet and so can't usually respond individually to each reviewer. Please know that I do read and pay attention to your thoughts and appreciate people taking the time to let me know what you think. To segue ;) I need to give kudos to a reviewer TonysSilverFox who gave me heads up in another review for info used from the Dressed to Kill episode that I've verified as being correct and I used within this chapter. So I do read your suggestions. And NCIS fan: Congrats on your successful surgery and not needing chemo. Best of luck!

Just to clarify, this is a short story...okay short for me. This won't be an angst-filled Tony battling his way through chemo story - I have lived through the real thing with several relatives and have no desire to do so with Tony. I also had to pick a very few incidents to highlight via Tony's journal because there are just so many. I know there are a lot more, but the chapter is already too long so I did have to be selective. I plan to revisit Tony's journal in another story soon and it will have his written entries throughout the story so I haven't included it in this one. Hopefully, you'll enjoy where I've chosen to take this story though.

Warnings: I've been rewriting this chapter for a few days now and am still tempted to hold it back and rewrite it some more. Having said that, it is partly because it contains the scene at Jackson Gibbs funeral. Losing a father is a painful process and this chapter has stirred up some ghosts and I suspect that I am no alone so discretion is advised. Loss quite commonly can provoke the need to re-examine one's actions and life decisions and because of this there is some course language. Examination of Gibbs' behaviour might upset some readers. So consider yourselves warned.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter four: Painful Insights

Gibbs stood stoically at the graveside of his father as they laid his casket to rest, his heart raw and broken. His eyes locked on the wreath that DiNozzo had sent. The flowers were yellow roses, Jacks' favourite flowers which he'd had growing in his front yard. He was in no doubt that his former SFA had noticed them the one time when he was in Stillwater years ago. It was the sort of detailed observation that was typical of his former team member. But it was the heartfelt message that was the real killer.

**_I'll miss you Jackson Gibbs. It was an honour to have made your acquaintance. You're a good man, Jack. Maybe you'd put in a good word for me with Saint Pete? I'll probably need it. Safe passage my friend._**

**_Tony DiNozzo. _**

Tony had also sent Jethro a condolence card, his first contact with him since he'd gone on medical leave to Italy for treatment some months before. Despite the pandemonium he'd caused to find out where his 2IC had gone, after reading his pilfered journal Jethro found he was unable to face DiNozzo, even if that meant he was a coward. Sometimes the price for obtaining what you desire – what you think is rightfully yours - is simply too high to pay. Something that Gibbs had learnt the hard way.

In the condolence card, Tony expressed his sorrow at Gibbs' loss and stated his admiration for his father, calling him a good man and signing off as Anthony DiNozzo. It was polite and proper, and just like every other damned bland condolence message he received from colleagues. Bland was not a descriptor he would usually use for DiNozzo.

That's when he had his epiphany… no several. The first was that while Tony had only met his dad a few times, he'd clearly liked and admired Jack, even regarded his old man as a friend. He, on the only hand, had worked with DiNozzo for 12 years and reading between the lines of the message and the journal, he'd finally destroyed the special trust that they'd always shared. The comment that he made to Leon after Jack's death about not leaving him out of the loop on cases because he didn't have anything but his job – well never had a truer word been spoken.

The last time he saw his dad, Gibbs was too busy convincing himself that the old guy was senile. He was feeling exasperated with him for dragging him away from his precious job, when all Jack wanted was to spend some time with him. He told Duck that Jack had lied to him, all because he broke one of his own damned rules – rule 8 – never assume always check your facts. He assumed that Walter was in his father's squadron and when there was no one of his name, immediately leapt to conclusions that Jack had lied to him for years but he had been wrong. And hadn't that burn him up to admit it!

He made his dad feel like he was doing him a huge favour, gracing him with his presence to help chase down Walter and his ham fisted invitation to come and live with him which was rejected. Undoubtedly, because his smart as a whip father had known it was made out of duty, not a genuine desire to spend time with him. He'd even prefaced it with the qualifier that he should come live with him since he didn't have a driver's license any longer – the subtext being that he needed to be looked after. Not that he was family and Gibbs might, God Forbid, actually want to spend some more time with his father.

After meeting Walter, if Jethro had asked again for him to come live with him, Jack would rightly interpret it as guilt so he didn't bother – that and it would be tantamount to admitting he was wrong. While he told Duck that apologising to family wasn't weakness, in his heart he found saying sorry extremely unpalatable. So because he was a stubborn jackass, he lost the opportunity to spend precious time with his only family. One that he wished now he could go back and change yet like with Shannon and Kelly, he had put his job first. Although he'd made peace with his dad, it was a somewhat uneasy truce, one where lots was left unsaid, had been swept under the carpet as being too uncomfortable to talk about and that left him with regret.

You'd think he'd have learnt by now that any extra time with family was priceless beyond measure, not an imposition. Yet the harsh truth was that the job he placed before everything else, wouldn't last forever. The damned pencil pushers could come along any day and stick their oar in his business and, citing mandatory retirement as a field agent, take away the only thing of value he had left. He would never agree to take on a paper pushing job so soon enough he would have nothing left.

Even Ducky and Abby who he considered friends, now viewed him with disappointment. He'd run DiNozzo off and instead of being furious with him as he expected – as he deserved - he was now an object of pity. He was what his friends, back in the day had always warned him he would become if he didn't mourn the dead and let them go – a bitter, twisted and lonely old man. Mandatory retirement as a field agent loomed like a huge bogeyman that was a depressing prospect. He'd made sure all his old friends, well the few that he had, were driven off too, with the exception of Fornell and he was back together with Diane. And now he had nothing left.

As he stared at his father's casket, the words that DiNozzo had unknowingly echoed to describe his father were mocking him with their irony. Jack WAS a good man – he was a good friend, a good father and husband, a good father-in-law and granddad, a good pilot. He'd even reached out to bring comfort to a former mortal enemy in his final hours on earth and how ironic was it that he had sought to do that by proudly parading his son, poignantly calling him a good man, the best one he knew.

Oh if Jack only knew – he was so very far from a good man. He was an implacable killer who took the life of his wife and child's murderer and then had made others complicit in the crime. He'd treated Lara Macy like the scum of the earth for simply doing her job, indeed the self-same job he did every day of the week as an NCIS agent – such a hypocrite. He had turned a blind eye to killers and corrupt colleagues, but maybe his worst crime was his treatment of Tony since he was someone he was supposed to care about and his job as Supervisory Special Agent was about looking out for him. Especially after snatching the job back off him years ago.

Jethro knew from reading his stolen journal, how over the years, he had systematically broken down, piece by piece, the spirit of the finest agent he had ever worked with. He told Senior a few years ago his son was the best 'young agent' because for years he'd been fooling himself about his mentor Mike Franks being the best. But he had finally come to the realisation that as good as Franks was, his questionable ethics, dishonesty and willingness to break the law when the going got tough meant that he couldn't ever be thought of as great. To be great, you had to do the right thing even when the personal cost was immense.

Even though he'd told DiNozzo's useless sperm donor, he'd never told Tony or anyone else either just how good he was. One time he did tell him he was proud of him but he never did it in public where it could have done so much good. He told McGee when he retired that he was good without batting an eyelash or any angst-filled deliberation about doing so and yet deliberately withheld the same communal validation from Tony. As if he wasn't equally as deserving of appreciation, if not more so for his extra years of service and unswerving loyalty?

No, he'd treated Tony like dirt – made him doubt himself even more than he already did when he picked him up in Baltimore after the joint case where he learnt his partner was dirty. It wasn't as if he hadn't known about his deep ingrained self- doubt masked as cockiness, so he couldn't claim ignorance, either. But the steady progression of a man who with each year he spent in the company of Leroy Jethro Gibb, lost his spark and his self-confidence – was easily discernable in his terse, acerbic, increasing self-critical comments that towards the end of the journal entries were bordering on self-hatred. Oh yeah, such an awesome team leader - he doubted if Jack read DiNozzo's journal, he'd be so proud of him now.

Jack would be downright pissed at him if he viewed the litany of examples where he had played favourites on the team, lavishing praise, even when it wasn't warranted or was misdirected onto his favoured ones just to screw with them all. And handed out blame for screw-ups onto the less favourite ones even when it wasn't their fault, like when Abby let her stalker into Tim's apartment and he copped the shit when Jethro should have got in her face for not following orders. Perhap even worse, turning a blind eye to behaviours of his favourites that would have seen Tony kicked off the team for a similar offence. It wasn't even as if he could claim that he didn't know how handing out praise to his select few and with withholding it from others created an atmosphere of competition and jealousy, either. He deliberately used it to keep the team motivated because truthfully, it worked and you couldn't argue with his results.

Although reading how DiNozzo had gone from being part of a satisfying partnership with him before Cate, McGee and Ziva, learning from him and feeling appreciated, feeling like he contributed equally in their working relationship to what he'd become now was excruciating. Tony referred to himself contemptuously as 'Gibbs' poo-boy' - slavishly following along in the wake of his boss (partner no more) collecting all the shit dumped on him from the rest of his team. Seeing that the poo-boy had been a terrible childhood memory when Senior made a small boy tote around a poo bucket at Civil War re-enactments so people could crap in it, it was a far from flattering description of how he saw his role on the team or his boss. In a rare bout of honesty Gibbs had to admit though it was also a painfully accurate one.

While other's wondered why he didn't find a new team, Gibbs understood that it was misguided sense of loyalty because he'd once expressed faith in him, combined with a lifetime of emotional neglect and abuse. DiNozzo was like many a herding dog he'd known over the years. You could curse, cuff, hell even kick or beat the crap outta the luckless creature pretty much without limits because for a good herding dog, it was in their DNA to work, almost as natural as breathing. So even a gruff grunt of scant praise ,once in a blue moon or a hunk of over ripe meat tossed at their head even if it made them queasy afterwards, was enough to keep them tied to the farm and the farmer.

Even if they weren't actually happy, these dogs were so browbeaten they didn't expect anything more from their master. He'd know all that on an instinctive level and still taken advantage of that side of DiNozzo's nature. Not being able to work when he was recovering from the plague was absolute torture to him – honestly who else would have come back a week early after nearly dying and practically being too weak to stand up?

As he stared at the wreath adorning his father's coffin, he regarded the message again, struck by his joke about Heaven. He knew damned well it was no joke but a thinly veiled reflection of his fear that he wouldn't be deemed worthy when he turned up at the pearly gates – like there was ever any doubt that he wouldn't be welcomed with open arms. Absurd, since DiNozzo was a good man, a far, far better man than Jethro was – would ever be. Flawed yes but he didn't make others miserable because of his crappy past. Truthfully it was Franks and himself who stood far less of a chance of an invitation from St Peter than Tony, but he'd gotten petty satisfaction over the years in making DiNozzo lose faith in himself. Oh yeah Jack, I'm such a good man!

_So good I never even thanked my agents for the enormous debt I owed them in preventing me from losing my job… my oh-so important damned job that they resigned to save it_. Just like he'd never had the balls to thank Tony for saving his and Maddie Tyler's lives either in an awe inspiring display of pig-headedness, skill, courage and athleticism.

No, stubborn as always he focused on the job, taking his frustration at owing favours out on DiNozzo, including him keeping his team together when Gibbs ran off to Mexico and then stepped aside and let him take his job back with no complaint at his churlish behaviour when he changed his mind and came back. He stripped him of his sense of purpose, his dignity, his right to do his job properly and even stood in the way of his using his considerable skills to lead his own team by dropping crumbs – in private of course with no witnesses – about how much he depended upon him. Jethro knew that it would keep him hanging around hoping for more and turning down job offers.

He'd made sure Tony didn't get a chance to see Jack one last time, even though he knew they both liked each other. Not that he knew at the time it was going to be their last opportunity - his last opportunity. That comment about DiNozzo cooties haunted him and prevented him sleeping, because it was true that he was uncomfortable whenever the two of them got together. Now because of his pettiness, Tony was facing cancer with no one from the team supporting him. Why couldn't he stop playing his childishly malicious mind games - like a cat toying with a mouse til it died of fright or shock rather than killing it swiftly and painlessly. He'd heard that the cat ,despite appearances, didn't derive satisfaction from the game, that it was a sign of an immature predator who hadn't been taught to dispatch its prey humanely and efficiently. They were caught up in the adrenaline fuelled 'stalk and pounce 'component of hunting prey but didn't know where to go next.

The problem was that he couldn't claim incompetency due to inadequate training though. Unlike an immature hunter, he knew precisely how to catch and kill and he did enjoy toying with his victims, metaphorically at least. He enjoyed it quite a lot.

Apart from the intense satisfaction he derived from taunting DiNozzo and seeing him suffer embarrassment, he didn't know why he was such a bastard. Or why a terrified, stuttering, green- assed private or a probie pissing their pants in terror when he was on a tear, filled him full of adrenaline that had become unbelievably addictive over the years, but it had. He didn't know why it felt so good to drive his people into the ground, denying them food or sleep or keep them in the dark about vital clues while threatening them to produce results. Why there was nothing better than waiting until they were proudly about to reveal hours of painstaking research to him and pipping them to the post as he revealed the info, except that it filled him full of a sense of power that was intoxicating.

He never stopped to consider how his behaviour impacted on his colleagues, apart from pissing them off, or making them fear and revere his awesomeness and his bastardness. Until NOW! Until he read DiNozzo's journal and had a chance to see his behaviour through someone else's eyes and see how much harm he wrought.

Oh yeah he wasn't stupid, on some level he'd always understood but in an intellectual sense, from his own point of view where it was easy to rationalise his actions. Not from someone else's point of view. Not from someone that in his own twisted, sick, perverted fashion he cared about – as much as he was capable of caring for anyone after Shannon and Kelly, that is. As a written account, DiNozzo's journal was remarkably insightful, filled as it was with good humoured asides so reminiscent of his former SFA, self-evaluations full of pathos and outright pain and the escalating self-hate. Tony despised himself for letting Gibbs fuck with his head and probably the worst revelation of many he encountered in the journal he had stolen and read without permission, was that Tony considered him to be even worse than Senior.

That shocking pronouncement was based on the fact that Senior had never pretended to care about him while Gibbs had professed to. He'd enticed him away from the police force with the promise that 'you don't waste good' and then he did precisely that. Or vowing that he'd always have his six and then letting him down on far too many occasions to mention.

That analogy of Tony as a spare tyre wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. He did keep him mostly shut up in the trunk because Gibbs was such a control freak he wouldn't allow him to take charge as his SFA job dictated. Yet DiNozzo was such a brilliant investigator,who could turn a case around in the blink of an eye, he couldn't let him go so he could lead his own team.

Nor did he trust anyone else but DiNozzo to watch his own back, either. The admission that his junior agents had left Tony's ass swinging in the breeze during his undercover Op to collect voice prints in that home-grown terrorist case were shocking. Or that Ziva attacked him in Israel when he was injured and unarmed and she threatened him using a loaded gun was down-right deplorable. It also served to illustrate just why he had only trusted Tony to watch his six for all these years. So Jethro supposed that something positive had come out of him reading the damned journal, since he'd be damned if he'd reward McGee with the SFA slot for breaking such a fundamental procedure. Hr needed to be able to depend on his 2IC to watch his six.

And while McGee was furious when Gibbs didn't promote him to the senior field agent position, mainly due to the revelations in the journal, he had been forced to bring in someone new to try to fill DiNozzo's shoes, which were unfillable. When McGee had complained about his years of experience on the team and being overlooked he was able to demonstrate that he wasn't ready, (may never be ready since some people weren't suited to leadership roles) and to counter his complaints. He cited turning off the microphone when Tony was under cover at Royal Woods and Tim nearly shit himself. Then he moved onto his running away and leaving his partner to face attack-trained Rottweilers without giving adequate warning which was not good and even worse, locking him out of their agency car, taking away his means of escape and ignoring direct orders to let him in. He followed up with a laundry list of examples of his constant failure to follow DiNozzo's orders and his outright insubordination.

Then Gibbs moved on to several recent incidents to illustrate why he wasn't ready for further responsibility including his failure to follow Gibbs' most basic instructions in the field when he was supposed to be an experienced field agent. Not unexpectedly, McGee had denied it.

"So when we were being tailed by foreign operatives who were potentially hostile, outside that Baltimore hotel last year and I told you not to look, you didn't disobey a simple order. You didn't turn around to look after being ordered not to and tip them off that we knew that they were there and then lost us a lead?"

"No Boss. That was a reflex action, not disobeying an order." McGee protested.

"No Muh…Gee, turning your head around… that would have been reflex, pretending to yawn really, really unconvincingly and turning around so you could look… that was premeditated. You don't do anything without running multiple scenarios through you head like a god damned computer program. You just thought you knew better than me. In the field that can get ya killed or me!"

Gibbs decided to deliver the coup de grace even though he hadn't had a chance to deal with it officially yet. It would make his case ironclad. "A senior field agent is responsible for the safety of agents beneath them in the chain-of-command. You're not ready for that responsibility." Seeing McGee was about to interject he continued. "When you and Bishop were checking out hotel rooms for persons of interest in the Nick Bodeen case, when you entered Michael Elliot's room and found him dead in what was an obvious crime scene, what did you do?"

"We called you and Ducky so we could process the scene for clues to the killer and the victim."

"And… what else did you do?"

"Uh nothing, Boss."

"Exactly, you stood around and made some lame ass joke about not wanting to clean up the mess."

McGee huffed, irritated. "DiNozzo used to make inappropriate comments at crime scenes all the time, Gibbs."

"True, McGee, he did often do that but he didn't stand around doing it instead of his job. He would have drawn his weapon and cleared the scene upon entering and realising that a crime had occurred, to make sure that it was safe first, though." Gibbs drawled, dryly.

McGee opened and closed his mouth several times before managing to respond. "But there was no one there in the room, the killer had long departed." He justified.

"You weren't to know that when you entered the room. I expect rookie mistakes like that from Bishop since she's a probie. You, I expect to know better especially since in your probationary year, your failure to properly clear a crime scene resulted in you getting injured and the killer getting away. Does the name Erin Kendall ring any bells for ya?"

McGee went white at the mention of the MIT graduate who'd witnessed a murder and ended up being killed as a result. He scowled at Gibbs, obviously thinking that he was hitting him way below the belt, since Kendal, who built computer models for the DoD, was talking to an smitten McGee on the phone when her killer struck. In fact, he had heard the murder while he was still on the line.

It was a tough case for the probationary agent and Jethro would have bet the farm that it would have etched forever into his psyche the critical importance of clearing a crime scene. Especially when he had a probie agent to look out for. Yet obviously not! So, not only had he placed their probie agent in danger by allowing Bishop onto a crime scene that hadn't been cleared not to mention himself, but he'd also set her a shocking example.

"As an SFA, a big part of the role is training and keeping the probie, Hell all the team safe and you've failed to demonstrate by your actions you're ready to assume that responsibility." Gibbs growled.

So disgruntled, Tim had gone over his head (not smart) and complained to the director, saying he had seniority and deserved the promotion. Even justified why he should be SFA by pointing out that Gibbs had appointed him over DiNozzo to run point on the Sergeant Dawson case when he was out of the office. Argued that it proved that even Gibbs thought he was a better agent than Tony since he didn't trust him to run the investigation in his absence, and even bypassed the chain of command so that the SFA didn't do his job (talk about a dumb move coming back to bite him on the ass). McGee told Vance he was more than qualified and ready to assume the role.

Which forced Jethro's hand so he showed Leon selected excerpts of Tony's journal including the Royal Woods entry and the Rottweilers' attack to explain why among other incidents, he wasn't going to appoint McGee as his SFA. Not the least of which was going over his head, and ignoring his COC. He'd also included entries on Ziva's attack on Tony in Israel to Leon too, since he was incredibly angry at her behaviour and because he felt that Leon and Jenn both bore responsibility for the whole miserable Massad saga due to their parasitic relationship with the David family. He figured a bit of self examination might do him some good, too.

Of course that led to awkward questions about why he hadn't been made aware of these incidence before, which caused Gibbs to reveal more excerpts revealing Tony hadn't felt either of his superiors would take action against Tim or Ziva and if they were to take action at all it would be to blame him. That or simply write it off as a justifiable joke, as Tony's practical jokes were legendary around the office, though he never put anyone's life in danger with any of them. Therefore he'd decided it was a waste of time reporting it; it fact, he'd expressed the view that he'd just lose even more face and make his position on the team even more untenable.

Justifying this opinion, he cited that both of them had failed to have his back over his righteous shooting of Rivkin, dragging him to Israel to score brownie points with Eli David. Which shocked Vance with its insight because he had to concede that it was probably a fairly accurate assessment. In the end he had no other choice but to support Gibbs' position on short-term plans for the team including not appointing McGee as senior field agent and bring in someone new. Long term plans though…well that was a whole other kettle of fish.

To defuse McGee's rabble rousing about discriminatory treatment based on unproven accusations, Gibbs agreed to give him a trial. Tim could have the job if he could prove to Jethro's satisfaction that he was as capable of watching his six as DiNozzo. So he set up a simulation of the feat that DiNozzo had pulled off in saving Maddie Tyler and himself. McGee had to run flat out and fire at two moving targets, delivering kill shots to both while under fire himself and then dive into freezing cold water to break a windscreen and drag an unconscious body up out of the bottom of the harbour. He had to get her onto the pier before returning and freeing a large six foot plus male victim, who had drowned and was dead weight and trapped by the car's steering wheel column, swim him to the surface and back onto the pier without assistance. Finally he needed to successfully carry out resuscitation procedures on both to save their lives.

Not unexpectedly, he failed to carry out the first part of the simulation, getting shot in the shoulder and taking far too long to reach the car, by which time the victims would more than likely have perished. He complained that it wasn't a fair test as he was asthmatic and diving into cold water brought on an attack. Gibbs didn't bother pointing out that DiNozzo also had scarred lungs.

He also didn't point out that he'd expected McGee to fail – that the number of individuals who could pull off such a feat were very limited. Probably only Navy SEALs could be guaranteed to accomplish the feat. But by making the claim that he was a better agent than DiNozzo – the junior field agent who despite his decade of experience still lost his creds like a newbie - had himself opened the door to comparison between the pair. So no, Jethro didn't feel even slightly guilty about setting him up, knowing he'd fail. Second B and all that!

Then there was the other looming elephant in the room which was the issue of his own actions and the impact they'd had on others. It was one thing for him to acknowledge the damage he'd caused, to even regret it but it was something else entirely to try to change who he was. Did he really have the courage to? Did he really want to try?

Wasn't it be easier to accept that he was a bastard, always was, always would be and deal with it? What was the point in trying to change who he was. He only had a limited time at best til he retired, anyways.

As people filed past Jack's grave, paying their final respects, Jethro felt it was all too damned hard. After all, you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Since the failed simulation, relations between the Elf Lord and him were frosty, practically Arctic and he was taking out his disappointment on Bishop and Mendez – their SFA who'd replaced the irreplaceable DiNozzo. Abby was upset on McGee's behalf since neither he nor Tim had shared the reasons why he hadn't been given the SFA job. Ducky was trying to play peacemaker unsuccessfully, so all in all, the dynamic on the team was tense.

Yes his job was all he had left but what he had left – was it really worth saving?

End Notes:

If we are taking Gibbs age as stated in Life Before His Eyes he was 54 according to his Mom in season 9. Yes I know that in reality he is much older than that but go with me here please (or the writers anyway). Mandatory retirement age of US government field agents is at age 55, so by my reckoning Gibbs should have been moved to a desk job some time ago, even with his down graded age. Do they really think we don't notice minor details like that?


	6. Chapter 6: Making Plans

A/N Well it seems that we do notice minor details about the characters that we love when we get biographical details and yes AlexDN I thought Tony's mother dressing him beyond the grave showed a lot of talent lol. But really the SASundance Annual Award for Continuity Inconsistency must surely go to the one that occurred between the 1 and 3 episodes of season 12 and was nominated by Arress. In the 1st episode Bishop is told by Gibbs that she can't go with him to Russia because she is a probationary agent and against the agency rules. By the 3rd episode Gibbs sends her prpbationary agent's ass to accompany Ducky to England - I guess they must have changed the rules during those two weeks because surely they can't have that bad an attention span - can they?

Thank-you everybody for your reviews, favs and follows. This is unbeta'ed so if you spot anything big I'd appreciate a heads up. :)

Warning: Good Leon plus he's pretty feisty and drops an F bomb. (Think that takes it up to three for the story - most unusual for me but required this time.)

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter six: Making Plans

Director Leon Vance left the security meeting in Naples exhausted by the hours of endless meetings, strategizing and networking. He could hardly wait til he returned stateside. He missed the kids something fierce and was looking forward to sibling spats and rivalry. But first he had an errand to run. He was stopping off at the European Institute of Oncology in Milan to check in on DiNozzo. Thanks to SecNav's plane it was merely a short detour to Milan on the way home to DC.

He had wished him well when he'd been informed of his medical situation some months ago but he hadn't really considered how his departure from DC would impact on the agency. His DC Major Case Response Team had fallen apart and they'd uncovered a lot of questionable work practises that had forced Vance to take a good hard look at how they did things. They were still appraising systems and procedures to find out how they'd fallen down so badly and the bureaucrats were having multiple cows as they began to document all of the procedural inconsistencies that had been basically ignored. Chiefly because of the close out rate of their most successful MCRT ever was considered to be too important to mess around with. Until it all began to fall apart and it wasn't so successful anymore.

The efficiency expert who was brought in to audit the DC office and specifically the MCRT over the last decade, Hubert Caldicott, tut-tutted disapprovingly during his extensive review of the team over the past decade. According to the expert on group dynamics, the team had become trapped in the second stage of Bruce Tuckman's five stage model of group development - STORMING. As he explained in his comprehensive report, the team had gone from FORMING where everyone was on their best party manners as they sized one another up, getting to know each other's strengths, weaknesses and figuring out where they fit in before moving on. The next stage was STORMING, meaning the team now had established just enough trust to express their dissent about how the group proceeded.

Although it was a necessary part of all group evolutions, the competitive aspect of STORMING meant that it could quickly turn nasty as people jockeyed for positions. For some individuals it was not a particularly pleasant environment to work in, especially those who preferred collaboration over competitiveness. For others it was downright toxic. Fortunately the vast majority of teams moved through this volatile phase relatively quickly and settled into the NORMING stage where they adopted a single goal for the team and agreed to mutually work together as a unit. Some stepping up while others stepped back to function as a cohesive whole rather than separate individuals with individual agendas. In other words, collaboration became more important that competing and scoring points off each other and the work environment became a whole lot more nurturing and supportive.

Leon had learnt, thanks to Hubert that few teams stepped it up to the fourth phase PERFORMING but despite this, NORMING could still produce outstanding results and made for fulfilled, productive and happy team members. Leon had been shocked to find that his much revered MCRT had been stuck in the STORMING stage of development for years unable to move on, most likely due to the leadership style of the team leader. That meant that DiNozzo who was the one who tried to meld them into a collaborative team (essentially sacrificing his own career and peace of mind in the process) was destined to always come up short.

Leon thought about how after years of performing that thankless task that was destined to fail, it must have been soul destroying to have those under him as well as his leader never accepting his place in the chain of command. To be relegated to class clown, having to throw himself on the minefields of Gibbs volatile emotional bombs and not pose a threat to the rest of the team with his skills and experience because they were constantly jostling to get pole position. STORMING also helped explain why McGee thought he had the right to usurp DiNozzo's authority this year when Gibbs was dealing with his father's problem with law enforcement and why when he'd sent him down to Cyber-crimes some years ago he'd ended up with everyone calling him Boss of the unit purely on the basis of his field agent status

Although Leon was genuinely surprised by the findings of his consultant, in many ways it also explained a lot of things that had puzzled him, too. Typically when you answered questions it inevitably meant that Caldicott's report also had generated other pertinent questions for the director, too. Perhaps the most tantalising was given the amount of success achieved by the MCRT despite being stuck in the STORMING phase of group development, what could they have actually achieved if coaxed into entering even into the NORMING phase of development - the 'average' collaborative level that most groups reached? He suspected they would have been a force to be reckoned and ...well he didn't want to imagine what it would have been like if they were attained the highly desirable PERFORMING level of operations.

They'd have be unstoppable, yet if Hubert was correct, then it would have required a complete change of leadership style – a participative rather authoritarian approach. Frankly, Vance remained convinced that it was about as likely for Gibbs to do that as former Special Agent David to admit that she made a grievous error in judgement when she silenced a suspect she was escorting to interrogation who ended up dead. In other words... about as likely as finding out that one eyed one horned flying purple people eaters really existed.

Everyone had given Gibbs carte blanche to form and run his team as he saw fit, blatantly ignoring his failure to observe accepted agency processes and procedures along the way. Somehow behaviours such as head slapping, denying his agents adequate rest and meals became acceptable. Insisting on them being contactable by him 24/7 and not allowing them to make private phone calls at work despite the fact they didn't work office hours were merely a few of the eccentricities of the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs and everyone thanked their lucky stars that they didn't have to conform to such unreasonable expectations.

While their results were impressive, the toxic environment meant that there were always going to be a huge price to pay for the long term effects of having to work in a team that wasn't really cohesive. They were seeing those less than desirable effects now and Leon was kicking himself for being so damned short sighted. It could have been worse though - if Tony was litigious he would have an excellent case against Gibbs and NCIS.

As he arrived at the renowned Italian cancer treatment centre Vance's thoughts turned to the journal that opened up a helluva Pandora's Box of trouble. He'd hazard a guess that Gibbs was heartily regretting stealing DiNozzo's private journal in his obsessive desire to locate him. Leon was no fool, he knew that Tony wouldn't have handed it over willingly and while he'd only read a small fraction of the journal he guessed that the rest was just as explosive, if not more so than what he'd seen already. He figured that if Jethro had any idea that it was going to turn into a poison chalice, he would have thought twice about taking it.

Perhaps the most ironic thing about the whole 'Gibbs stealing the journal' saga was that it did actually achieve what he set out to achieve, since it revealed to him why his SFA had left and where he had gone. So Vance had naturally expected Gibbs to be on the next transport plane out of the country and demanding time off to be there to support him as he went through treatment. Instead, he seemed too afraid to visit DiNozzo. Based on his reluctance to have any contact with him, Leon decided that the rest of the journal entries must have been pure dynamite to have Gibbs backing off like that. Part of him really wanted to know what else was in there but the wilier part of the director whispered that some things you were better off not knowing.

Leon, over these last months had called in several times when he was passing through, to see how his agent was getting along. Honestly, the guy looked like the grim reaper was a hairs breath away from Tony riding shotgun along with him one last time but Dr Pitt had assured him that was to be expected considering the treatment regimen. He stated that the NCIS agent was actually holding his own fairly well. This was his second set of chemo with the experimental drug, the course of radiation therapy sandwiched in between it and the first set of chemo and that generally, Tony was doing much better than they'd dared to hope. Which raised the question in Leon's mind of what the Hell would he have looked like if things were going poorly- it didn't bear thinking about. Still the good news was that Brad was hopeful that it was the experimental drug he was responding too and that a remission was now a possibility.

Leon had been pretty shocked to find Dr Pitt working at the Institute when he first dropped by. After expressing his surprise at him being there he commented, "I don't usually find myself agreeing with Gibbs famous rules but the unwritten one about coincidences… that is one I think has some merit. It's not a fluke that you happened to move here to work, is it?"

"Tony's a good friend, I got him into the trial since I knew one of the researchers. Went to Harvard Medical School with her. My wife and I decided when she offered me a sabbatical here that coming would mean that we could support Tony. He needed someone. Lara, my wife is a painter and likes the locales and my nurse decided to come over too. She nursed him through the plague and admired his courage, so we came over here together to be his support network."

"That is rather extreme, isn't it?" Leon asked.

"Not really. I broke his leg in college and ruined his chances of a professional sports career. Then when we meet up again and Tony was dying of the pneumonic plague and contracted pneumonia ,he made me a celebrity in infectious diseases and pulmonary medicine. I've travelled all over the world presenting medical papers because he was too damned stubborn to die. Maybe I'm just looking out for my meal ticket," He shrugged with casual air of indifference that failed to fool the NCIS director.

"Is he going to make it, Doctor?"

"I sure hope so, but it's too early to say, definitely. At the moment we are looking at remission. If he stays in remission for five years we can start to talk about a cure. But off the record… as someone who has beaten the plague, I'm feeling optimistic. Any particular reason?"

"Well it's like they say, you don't appreciate what you've got until it's gone. I want to offer him a team lead position in the New York office. It's in a mess and I think that he can turn them around if he's well enough to be coming back."

Of course that was just his short term plan for DiNozzo, though. He really wanted Tony back in DC long term, and heading up the DC Major Case Response Team if he was able to return to work. He'd transferred Balboa's SFA into the MCRT after being convinced that McGee wasn't ready for the role – might never be because the truth is that no agent should ever turn their back on another agent out in the field, let alone while investigating domestic terrorism. That failure alone was serious enough for him to question his long term suitability for field work. Just because someone wanted to be a field agent didn't mean that they were suitable for the role and for the first time he had begun questioning if McGee was up to it.

Truth to tell, McGee and Ziva couldn't have picked a worst sin than leaving a fellow agent without back-up in the field, in Leon's own personal hierarchy of offences committed by agents. Ever since his own betrayal on his first mission to Amsterdam where he was left with his own ass swing in the breeze, thinking he had back-up when he didn't, Leon had been a stickler for making sure his agents weren't ever put in that position. Sure he had to send agents into situations sometimes where back up just wasn't possible, like when he'd sent DiNozzo down to Mexico and it had turned nasty. That was not desirable but at least he knew going in that no one was watching his back and so he could behave accordingly. Plus he'd proved he had what it took to work without backup with La Grenouille fiasco. But still there was a huge difference in thinking that someone is watching your ass when they're not!

And it hadn't escaped Vance's notice either, the incredible irony that a lowly Mossad operative (which was what he was back then) had saved his ass in Amsterdam on his first mission when NIS agents had left him hanging in the wind. Yet the very same operative's daughter had been instrumental in ignoring well established procedures and turning off the microphone that was DiNozzo's lifeline in an emergency. Knowing the feeling of betrayal that cuts deep when you discover that the people you trust to your back don't give a flying fuck about you or the job, made him empathise with DiNozzo. Something he never thought would ever happen.

The journal excerpt had brought all his anger over Amsterdam back to the surface and combined with the anger he felt toward McGee and the absent David, he'd felt like he would explode if he didn't let it out. Even after so many years, the deceit still had the power to render him impotent with rage. So he'd gone to visit Jackie and put fresh flowers on her grave. He used to tell her pretty much everything before and he continued to confide in her every time he went to visit. She was still his best friend. Although there was much less confiding this time and a whole lot of venting over the Royale Woods fiasco. That and the fact that a naïve black kid on his first mission was considered expendable by his handlers – seriously, the treachery – it never went away.

So he vented to his much better half and in the process he realised that DiNozzo too had been put into this situation before. of where he must have felt let down by the treachery of people who should have been trustworthy such as Domino, La Grenouille and the Rivkin fiasco where he left him out to dry when he should have had his back. Leon decided that he couldn't fault Tony for assuming that there was no point in reporting his team mates. He'd hardly been a perceptive or impartial leader and would have given him short shrift.

Stroking Jackie's headstone he traced his long mobile fingers along the etching of her epitaph:

Beloved Wife and Mother

Leon could help himself – he had to ask the 'what if' question that he'd tried to avoid ever since it happened. What if he hadn't been a jackass and Tony had felt that reporting the breach when it occurred would have been responded to appropriately? He would have in all probability sacked McGee and Ziva, so then Eli quite possibly wouldn't have come to the US to try to win back his daughter. He'd have most likely have lost himself in machinations in Middle East affairs and even if he decided to play the 'Peacemaker' he'd have more than likely done so closer to home. Jackie would probably still be alive and Kayla and Jarrod would still have a mother.

Resolving to focus on understanding what made Anthony DiNozzo tick and utilise his skills more intelligently, he whispered a wretched farewell. Hating that he had to leave her there, so alone, he apologising to his mate as he did on every visit that his work had cost their family what was most precious. OH GOD he missed her!


	7. Chapter 7 Moving On

A/N Just briefly I want to remind you this isn't beta'ed so hopefully you can make your way through my punctuation. Thank-you to everyone who is reading, following and reviewing - I appreciate everyone's time taken to leave feedback. This chapter is a bit longer (not long in comparison to my average chapters, just in the context of this one.) I try to keep them as balanced as possible but it doesn't always work out that way.

Warning: More nice Leon in this chapter. Oh what the heck - he will be a relatively good guy for the remainder of the story and just for the record it isn't the first time I've portrayed a nicer Vance. In Agent Anthony Afloat he was supportive in Operation Atonement too.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter Seven: Moving On

Frankly it had been a revelation for the whole DC office that after such a long time at the top of the heap with his agents, Gibbs team only outwardly looked to be solid and the epitome of excellence but that was illusionary. In reality, what they were was less a team than one agent's personal fiefdom, who flouted rules and procedures blatantly over the years and everyone had turned a blind eye to it since they got results. Yet it was an undeniable truism that no one person should ever be above the rules or law and results were not enough to justify questionable methods, ever, and they'd all lost sight of that. So Leon decided it was definitely time to bring in fresh ideas and ways to do things and he thought that it was beyond time for younger individuals to be given a go. He admitted that until recently, he'd thought that it would be Timothy McGee but he knew now that wasn't going to happen – not with a field team anyway.

He'd started looking at some of the innovations Tony had introduced during his four months at the helm of their flagship team, more than half a decade ago. Despite his absolute loyalty to Gibbs, it hadn't prevented him from trying to introduce innovations that had a lot of merit when he was presented with the opportunity. Even if Gibbs had ditched them immediately he bulldozed his way back into the job he'd foisted onto DiNozzo with no warning. Shepard made a huge mistake when she let Jethro come back the way he did, since it reinforced his belief that the normal rules didn't apply to him. And they were all continuing to pay for that lapse since it had done irreparable damage to DiNozzo's standing, but she was compromised by her personal vendetta and her feelings for Gibbs. A damned good example of why a director should not have the hots for an agent under their purview, since it clearly biased her actions.

Be that as it may, that was the past and he couldn't change it but soon Gibbs would be forced to step down from the MCRT since he was too old for field work. He had pulled strings with some heavy hitters to prevent his retirement but eventually those influences would wear thin and in the meantime, Vance was busy putting in place an exit strategy.

Gibbs' new SFA, Mendez was Balboa's former 2IC and DiNozzo had been instrumental in his selection several years ago, recommending him and helping to train him. Rocky happened to have a great deal of respect for DiNozzo; he'd discovered belatedly that all the DC team leaders did and had been impressed by his time leading the MCRT. They all felt his talents were woefully underutilised and Balboa had pointed out that the close out rates for the team had risen when Tony had first been hired but hadn't shown a similar increase as other team members joined Gibbs team. When Gibbs had retired, instead of a decreased closure rate as one would expect of an inexperienced SSA, they'd held steady. Considering he'd had a SFA with inadequate field experience for the job, a liaison Mossad officer with no background in investigative techniques or familiarity with US justice and legal requirements and a probie agent that had no field experience and was actually a lawyer, it was a freakin miracle.

Looking at the team, one would be forgiven for thinking that giving Tony such an obviously inexperienced team was a deliberate attempt by Jenn Shepard to sabotage him as team leader. Yet he had done the impossible and maintained an impressive result while also working an unsanctioned undercover mission fulltime without any backup. It had been an astonishing achievement and yet all he got for his efforts had been a heap of shit from them all. Perhaps none more so than himself who as someone totally removed from the situation, should have done a much better job of analysing his performance since he prided himself on his analytical abilities. So now Leon was hoping to redeem himself and utilise his obvious talents to rectify some issues.

Rocky had agreed to step in as the next SSA for the MCRT after Gibbs but it was on the proviso that it was a short term measure. His wife wanted them to transfer to the San Diego office as they had grandchildren there who they wished to have a more hands-on role in bringing up. The new analyst, Ellie Bishop who Gibbs hired as a replacement for Ziva would continue to grow and Leon was hopefully in time, Tony would take over from Balboa. For now though, Leon wanted him to regain his confidence and be free to introduce innovations away from the spotlight of being a known entity.

First and foremost, he thought that Tony needed the challenge to rebuild his confidence where he had a degree of anonymity before taking over the team he'd been groomed for from his first hiring. Sending him to New York was also a win-win job in the short- term because the office was ripe for a major overhaul of just about everything including personnel and processes ,so they got to fix the trouble plagued office while Tony got back into the field.

So that was why Leon was here in Milan at a highly regarded cancer treatment centre confronting Dr Brad Pitt, searching for answers about SA DiNozzo.

Earlier he'd asked him, "Is he going to make it, Doctor?"

"I sure hope so, but it's too early to say. At the moment we are looking at remission. If he stays in remission for five years we can start to talk about a cure. But off the record… as someone who has beaten the plague, I'm feeling optimistic. Any particular reason?"

"Well it's like they say, you don't appreciate what you've got until it's gone. I want to offer him a team lead position in the New York office. It's in a mess and I think that he can turn them around if he's well enough to be coming back."

That answer had not gone down as well as he'd expected, which had been a bit of a surprise.

ISHT

Brad Pitt stared at him, his hostility barely disguised as he confronted him about what he'd said before. "You've hardly been Tony's biggest fan, Director. What's changed?"

"The truth, Doctor? Agent DiNozzo's personal journal. I believe Gibbs obtained it by nefarious means and I have seen a few entries."

"You mean he stole it right out of my office, the asshole." Brad growled. "I had it in my office when he came storming in, demanding to know where Tony was and obviously recognised it, so then nicked it. Tony had forgotten it in the aftermath of his surgery and departure and I fetched it from his apartment so I could take it to him."

Leon nodded. "Ah, I wondered why you had it. I thought perhaps you had set him up but obviously there was no intent there."

"Of course not. It had highly personal, private thoughts in there. I know you have no idea but Tony is actually a highly complex introvert who feels things deeply. Since he's been surrounded by males who have indoctrinated him to believe emotions are a sign of weakness, he conceals what he views as his flaws."

Brad was still furious with Gibbs for taking Tony's precious journal. He had been devastated at the realisation that Gibbs had it since it represented years of private thoughts and emotions and it was a huge betrayal of trust. Brad had felt enormous guilt that it was in his custody when it had been lost.

"What I don't get was he was so damned gung-ho to know where Tony was, yet the diary lead him right to the hospital in Milan. We were all trying to figure out how to protect Tony when he turned up…yet he never did. What gives?"

Leon chuckled ironically. "Jethro got a Hell of a lot more than he bargained for when he read it, I think. I guessing that he had to confront a lot of really painful home truths – he wasn't the only one. Although I only saw a few passages but having said that, they were explosive so I'm surmising that the rest was equally so. I don't think after having to confront all that, he could face DiNozzo. Then the death of his father has shaken him further."

"Tony was very upset when he heard, he was very fond of that old man. But he wasn't well enough to travel back for the funeral." Brad observed. "He'd just started the second round of chemo to make sure that we got any stray cells that survived the first lot of chemo and radiation."

"When will he finish this treatment?"

"Another month, all going well."

"And when will you clear him to return to work?"

"He won't be fit to go back into the field for quite a while. In fact it isn't 100 percent certain that Tony's lungs will allow him to go back into the field."

Leon stared at the doctor. "You really believe that or are you ass covering, Pitt?"

Brad thought about it. He hadn't thought he'd survive the plague but he beat the odds. He didn't really think that he'd achieve remission yet it looked as if he was going to go into remission. Since it was likely due to an experimental drug, there was no data to suggest if it was likely to be a short term remission or if it would be longer term.

In a weird way, Tony's scarred lungs had probably saved his life. He'd trained him after much tearing out of his hair to react immediately when the federal agent noticed changes in either his lungs or his respiratory function. Since the damage to Tony's lungs meant that even slight changes had much more impact, he couldn't afford to ignore them but the upside was he was more sensitive to those changes as well. That had resulted in the tumour being diagnosed when it was still relatively small.

That factor and the effects of the experimental drug combined, was the reason Tony was looking at such a positive outcome. And the fact that the resection was much less aggressive than if he'd let it go on longer before seeking treatment. It meant the surgery was far less traumatic than it might have been, under normal circumstances. If Tony's lungs had been pre-plague with no scarring, it may have taken him a lot longer to actually notice any symptoms. So while you could argue chicken and egg about if his scarred lungs might have been a contributing factor to rogue cells developing which possibly lead to cancer or not, it probably lead to early detection in a bizarre way and saved him.

Which stood him in good stead if he attempted to get back in the field because he hadn't lost significant amounts of lung tissue. And Brad reckoned that if anyone was capable of making a comeback, it would be Tony. All they could do was wait and see!

"If things continue as we hope, he 'may' have regained enough stamina in a few months' time to return to the office part time. But Director, may I recommend if you are hoping to entice him back, don't stick him behind a desk doing administrative duties. Even cold cases won't cut it for him after this experience. Unless he's challenged, he may decide on a complete change."

Brad seemed to consider his words carefully. "A life threatening experience such as this, where the prognosis didn't have him surviving ...was always going to have a dramatic effect on him. And while remission is a wonderful outcome, its unexpectedness has caught him off guard. He didn't expect to survive, not really. Now he's going to need to reassess his life and goals. He might need new horizons or a complete change…time will tell."

"I was thinking about giving him a role creating solutions to the issues in the NY office – sort of trouble shooter role with some of the more challenging cold cases thrown in until he could assume the SSA. I was impressed with some of the innovations he brought in when he was team leader and would like for him to trial them in the teams in New York with a view to rolling them out agency wide, eventually. I'm sure that he has more ideas but frankly the environment he's been subject to isn't conducive to developing them. Although some of his colleagues on other teams have been more open to exploring fresh ways of operating."

The director considered his words carefully. "I was wrong about DiNozzo. I judged him based not on his record or achievements but the box into which he'd been forced into on the MCRT. If I'd done my job better I would have ensured he was in an environment that supported his unique talents, not extinguished them. Even when he tried to act more in keeping with his real personality his co-workers were threatened by him and badgered him to return to the role he'd been assigned as the class clown. We need people like him who are talented, loyal and not in the job for the ambition or power."

Brad decided that a final warning that Tony wasn't the same desperate for validation agent who would meekly take one for the team any more. His priorities had altered drastically, as had his lifestyle. "Tony is in a committed relationship, Director. You'll have to convince not just Tony to return to the agency that treated him like shit and his partner won't be as easy to convince. She's damn scary!"

Okay, so Leon had not been expecting that development. Nope, nun uh. How the Hell had that happened. "Um this is recent, someone he met in Italy?" He thought that given his history, it was unlikely to last.

"No, they've know each other a long time and she's in it for the long haul so prepare to woo them both." Brad advised him seriously.

ISHT

Four weeks later:

Tony stared at Emma Ingham with a combination of awe, exasperation for her refusal to take no for an answer and what he was afraid to label as love lest that was enough to destroy a rare and long desired gift. His whole life he had been searching for someone who loved him, who accepted him for who is was, his many flaws and all, who could look at him at his worst and see not his faults but what he could be. He thought he had found that a couple of times in the past but he'd been wrong. Most children get to experience unconditional love in some form or another but he'd never felt any love, if he did actually receive it, then it was with conditions attached and as a child he had never felt that he measured up to those expectations.

Even as an adult the sense that he was good enough were fleeting and unsatisfying. The feeling of flying down the basketball court or football field, flying through the air for a slam dunk, chasing down a dirt bag or discovering a clue at 0300 after an all-nighter in the bull pen or squad room that lead to another murderer being arrested. Such wonderful feelings and yet it was nothing compared with the feelings he experienced when he was with Emma. Or when they were apart and all he could think about was what she was doing and was she happy, was she safe.

It made him feel dizzy but not in the way that two torturous courses of chemo did and left him wanting to puke his gut, intestines and lungs up. No the way he felt about her was way worse. It scared the absolute crap out of him, yet at the same time he felt ten foot tall and able to do literally anything. The trouble was that he knew that Emma had made a terrible error in judgement, falling for him but love was blind and all that crap. Tony thought it was just a matter of time til she figured out what he had known from the get go – she was way too good for the likes of Tony DiNozzo.

You couldn't fight the inevitability of genetics bestowed on him by his asshole father or the fact both his parents were addicts. Oh sure not in the meth head, crack house, working girl sense, since they come from a privileged background, but they were still unable to function in the real world without chemical crutches to help them cope. Like Senior, he was lousy at relationships. Wendy was proof of that and Jeanne who he'd loved like no one he'd ever met before- well he had been a complete bastard and hurt her so badly.

Tony was terrified Emma would wake up one day and come to her well justified senses that he just wasn't partner material, not in any meaningful long term sense. Or infinitely worse, he would end up breaking her heart and that would be a thousand times worse – even if he didn't intend to. Since Emma swept into his life and heart at the bleakest time in his life he had argued that starting a relationship with a guy who was dying was nuts and would only lead to him hurting her. Now that he was in remission, it made it even scarier since they dared to dream and if he were to fall ill a second time - the crash would be that much harder to deal with. So it seemed to make sense to break up with her before that happened.

"You are totally not going to push me aside, Tony DiNozzo, so forget about it right now." Emma threatened him in a scary display of clairvoyance as they prepared to leave the hospital for the last time. "Either one of us could be hit by a bus or flatten by random space junk crashing back down to earth." She stopped to consider that scenario. "Actually for someone who managed to get infected by Y- Pestis by an avenging mother for a crime that was never committed, that isn't so outrageous, so perhaps we shouldn't go giving the Gods any idea." She giggled, hugging him to remove any perceived sting from her words since she knew that his team had regularly made stinging comments intended to draw blood and understood why he was still sensitive.

Tony had to admit that having been thrown out of a plane, drugged, beaten, chained inadvertently to a serial killer, taken hostage numerous times, nearly perishing in a burning building and being blown up on numerous occasions, it wasn't that far-fetched to get clobbered by an obsolete satellite. "Okay but are you sure, you and me I mean… not the satellite? What if…"

Interrupting him firmly, she asked him. "What if I get sick? Will you dump me in case your heart gets broken?" Not even deigning to wait for his response, she continued." Stop acting noble and take me for a cup of espresso instead. I'm going to miss being in Milan, well I'm going to miss Italy when we go home next month." It was true, even with the reason for their sojourn, they had managed to find some precious memories along with the horrific ones. It was one thing that she had always admired about him, his unwavering ability to find positives in the worst of situations.

Seeing his smile, the one that said _'I know something you don't, something good,' _Emma congratulated herself that she'd derailed his most recent bout of feeling that he needed to save her from himself. Turning on her pleading look that persuaded even the most uncooperative patient to eat or Tony to take pain meds, she knew that he would give in and his expression changed as he decided to share. Basking in his smile and Oh My Goodness what a smile it was, a joyous, mischievous and wholly unguarded beam that lit up her heart and the whole room, she continued to pout, knowing he would spill.

"Ms Ingham, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to Venice, Tuscany, Florence and Naples for a month, finishing up with a sun-filled week on Santori while I work on getting healthy?"

So okay, who knew that calm-in-a-crisis Emma Ingham was capable of squealing like a fan girl as she flew into Tony's arms and hugged him ecstatically. Tony really wished with a reaction like that he'd waited til they were back at the apartment they were sharing with Brad and his wife Lara. He wasn't up to anything too strenuous, but hey, at the moment he'd settle for a cuddle and a nap.

Having made the love of his life happy, it was now time to say what he really hoped was a final goodbye to the amazing staff at the Istituto Europeo Di Oncologia. He'd already organised to have gourmet food hampers, chocolates and flowers delivered to the nurses for being there for him through the whole horrible Chemo treatments. He couldn't believe these amazing people did this day in and day out – they were so not paid enough to do what they did.

It took ages to make his way round the whole crew who were working today, saving his favourite nurse til last to farewell. Blonde haired, green eyed Alessandra had sat with him on many a night when he'd been unable find sleep and they'd watched movies together. Brad had joked that if Emma hadn't come along Tony might have been applying to the Naples field office instead of heading to New York. He grinned, since who knew what might have happened if Emma hadn't come along and kicked his butt. He smiled broadly, recalling her telling him that she expected him to kick the tumour's ass because she had season tickets to the 75th Anniversary season of the American Ballet Theatre in 2015. Seeing his befuddled expression about what one thing had to do with the other Emma explained.

"Well because you're going to take me to every performance at the Lincoln Centre in New York. I can't wait to dress up for you and see in your Armani tux. So start visualising that chemo annihilating your tumour cells," she instructed firmly as she handed him a bunch of nutritional supplements which he swallowed obediently.

Tony thought back to that stern lecture and wondered whether an ability for presentiment was something Emma was keeping from him since at that point, he had no idea that Leon Vance would offer him a Supervisory Special Agent position in the NY field office. When he decided to go back to NCIS, pending his ability to regain his fitness levels and receive medical clearance, he decided to accept the offer because a) it would allow him to keep his promise to Emma about the ballet b) he really wasn't sure if he wanted to return to DC even to take over the lead of the MCRT and c) the lure of being able to implement some of his ideas without the negativity of his old team sabotaging them, was too tempting to refuse.

He thought that at least in the early stages of their relationship, starting some place fresh, where his workmates were a blank slate would make it easier to focus on their relationship. Tony was convinced that it was Emma that made sure he didn't stop fighting and he counted himself as incredibly fortunate to have her. He'd made a conscious choice to cut himself off from everyone in DC when he decided to come to Italy for treatment. He'd tried to stay 100 percent positive but it was tough and having contact with anyone associated with DC brought up too many issues he just couldn't deal with while fighting for his life – their life. His and Emma's.

Brad had offered to keep anyone in the loop. Jimmy, Ducky, Balboa and Mendez had all agreed to the constraints that Brad laid down: regular updates from him but Tony needed space. He also asked them to respect his privacy which they'd agreed to. Abby he'd figured, was too close to McGee and Gibbs and wouldn't be able to adhere to the limited contact through Brad that he was prepared to give her. He was willing to renew personal contact with the four guys though, once he had set down roots in New York – as long as they could accept that he wasn't the same person anymore.

It would be a different friendship to before and if they could handle that then he would maintain a friendship with them. Shrugging, he refocused on the here and now. That was one of the things he had taken away from his cancer experience. Time was precious and if you spent too much energy focusing on 'the what had been' or ' the what will be' then you wasted time that could never be regained. The past he couldn't change and the future might never come to pass but he had right now and he wasn't about to fritter it away.

While he would never say that having cancer was a good thing – it had forced him to re-evaluate everything about his life and he had learned to live in the moment. And that hadn't been a bad thing – not at all. Smiling at his favourite nurse, he approached her and drew her into his arms, grateful for leaving here in remission, for however long that may be. It was much more than others in his situation had.

Hugging Alessandra he smiled as he whispered in her ear, "You're coming to dinner tonight, right Ale?" Brad and Lara were holding a small dinner party at the apartment tonight to say goodbye to his colleagues at the Institute. Tony had issued a personal invitation to Alessandra and Giovanna as well and Emma had a couple of colleagues coming from the American International Medical Centre, where she'd been working. Brad, Lara and Emma were going to cook a Creole feast and Tony's job was to go home to rest so he would be able to make it through the dinner party without face planting into the main meal. Although food still tasted bad – mostly metallic and he had to be careful to avoid spicy and acidic foods, he could still enjoy some great company and was looking forward to tonight.

The blonde Italian grinned. "I'll be there, Tesorino. We're going to miss you," she told him. "But, we don't want to see you back here, again. Milano is fine but not the Institute." She told him sternly before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Smiling obediently, he nodded his agreement before telling her he'd see her tonight. Finally saying goodbye to the doctors who were on duty today, Emma and Tony exited the lobby for what both were hoping was the final time. They stopped off for coffee for Emma and a green tea for him before headed back to their apartment, feeling incredibly fortunate. Both of them knew that he was not out of the woods yet; wouldn't be for a long time yet but still it felt good to be alive.


	8. Chapter 8 Changing It Up

A/N Thank-you to people who read, faved and reviewed. I always look forward to reading your thoughts. Responding to a couple of issues, no this isn't a death fic...well as much as anyone in remission from cancer can ever be said to be safe. Two of my family were diagnosed within weeks of each other... one went into remission and not the other and we are painfully aware that even after five years remission is not a guarantee. Also I was gratified to see that so many readers wanted to see Tony in a healthy relationship and approved of Emma. I understand that plans for Tony to grow and have a steady love interest this season have been re-evaluated because some 'fans' although I would argue that they aren't Tony fans, have objected vigorously to him being happy. Perhaps the true Tony fans need to flood the FanFic sites with Tony/OC romances to balance out all the TIVA er material out there and be equally vocal to the producers as the deluded people who think that Ziva is coming back. Finally, I wanted to respond to another review but this chapter is already too long so I'll save it til next time. :)

As to why Gibbs is avoiding confronting Tony - IMHO while he may be gung-ho at work about work related issues, when it comes to anything personal or to do with emotions he frequently adopts an head in the sand approach. He's spent 20 years avoiding working through his grief, continued to make the same mistakes resulting in a string of broken marriages and relationships and he hates admitting he was wrong, so I don't see him avoiding Tony as being all that out of character.

Finally, for a kid that literally brought himself up despite his appalling childhood, Tony's loyalty to his teammates and even his pathetic father is astonishing. He always reminds me of a rescue puppy (a typical OTT staffie, not the Saint Bernard that Gibbs labelled him as) who should be aggressive and unable to be rehomed yet is loving and loyal. Who is far from perfect, might pee on the rug when he gets excited and jump all over the humans pack with dirty paws or slobber on their good clothes. He might even nip and break the skin when he gets excited but not because he is aggressive or mean. It is just that he was never shown how to act appropriately around people and gets too excited when shown even small amounts of kindness. So why am I sharing my mental rambling with you, I hear you ask? Because for reasons too complex to get into here, I've changed my mind and decided I would share an excerpt from Tony's journal with you. Might even explain why Gibbs keeps avoiding him.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 8: Changing It Up

**_Excerpt from Tony's journal:_**

**_The Boy That No One Wanted_**

**_Once upon a time there was a little boy who grew up with a mother and a father who were addicts, and because of their illness, were often cruel and forgot that they needed to look after him. One thing they did remember to teach him was that no one could know that they were sick and couldn't make it through the day without a drink or pills to make them feel better. So the little boy became really good at covering up for his parents so that no one knew how sick they were. His father also taught him lessons that he would carry with him for the rest of his life – that his family never cried fainted or asked for help. So he also became really good at pretending that nothing was wrong and got so good that no one ever had a clue that he was lying all the time. When his mother took him to the theatre to see movies sometimes, it was like magic. He quickly lost himself in a world that let him escape from his life and at the same time, he also got to see how normal people lived._**

**_The boy's mother died when he was eight years old and his father forgot about him, abandoned him as he drank even more and then formally disowned him when he was 12. He was bullied so badly at boarding school that he went one better than completely obliterating it from his memory – that was so passé. Instead, he flipped the whole process around, convincing himself that he was the perpetrator and not the victim since that at least gave him a modicum of control over a life where he felt unloved and unwanted and never knew why. Labelling himself a bully at least was a reason he could understand for why his only parent would abandon him like yesterday's trash. His years at school taught him very little about the right way to treat others. According to the boy's friend Donald Duck, who had also attend boarding schools growing up, really famous ones too, he claimed that they had more in common with the hierarchy inside adult prisons than places that educated impressionable young children. Where bullying was entrenched, even culturally endorsed – seen by the establishment as making men out of boys. Where sexual molestation and abuse of young boys by older ones was as common as fireworks on the 4th of July. _**

**_When the boy left the detested boarding school and went to college, the boy found a Fraternity that finally taught him how to be part of a real family. He learnt all about hazing, teasing and pranking his family to show them how much he cared about them- how much he loved them. He learnt how to be loyal and to protect his family – his brothers - no matter what they did or the personal cost. But the very best thing was, that for the first time he had family that cared about what happened to him and would do anything for him. The boy drank alcohol at college, although not much because he was an athlete and needed to be clean and fit to take the field. But the feeling he got from finally being a part of a proper family was way better than alcohol. It was a feeling he would do anything to feel for the rest of his life, like normal people. _**

**_When it was time to leave college he knew that he needed to find a new family, one that he could stay with for much longer than four years. When an injury meant that he wouldn't be able to find his family on a sporting team like he'd planned, he turned to the police force, knowing that it could give him the family he longed to belong to and he could help others too. After failing to save a little girl from burning to death in a fire, the boy who couldn't be a professional athlete, really wanted to make amends. It was a while before he found a new family, and he missed his frat brothers so much he thought his heart would shatter. There were false starts but after six long years, he finally found what he hoped might be his forever family in DC. Unfortunately, his new family that he loved didn't love him- didn't even like him and thought they were better than him. _**

**_Even though they had all had grown up with pretty normal families and had proper childhoods they didn't seem to understand. When the boy hazed and teased his new family like he had his frat brothers, they also retaliated like his college family did and the boy felt like he belonged. But the boy was confused because it wasn't good naturedly getting even that he experienced at college. Instead of feeling loved, they made him feel stupid because he wasn't as important or smart as them. Since he'd been told as a child he was a failure and without value, that he would end up in the gutter, he accepted that they must right and never complained when they made him feel worthless and unwanted, like his dad had when he was little. They were his family so he forgave them because that's what you did for family. His brothers had taught him that much. _**

**_So, he tried his best to protect them and support them, because they were important – to him personally , to the team and the agency. The boy who'd become an agent, frequently put his life in mortal peril to save theirs, never receiving a word of thanks from them but he understood. It was his job to save them and he wasn't important like they were or smart so he wouldn't be missed if anything happened to him. When one of them pulled him back from plummeting to certain death or disability in a parking garage however, he profusely thanked his team mate because it was his job to save them, not the other way around. Even though his teammate hadn't endangered himself to save him, he had a fear of heights and was scared and the boy was grateful that someone would inconvenience themselves to save someone as inconsequential as himself._**

**_ He was so lucky to have found this team so the boy who had become a lonely sad agent lived unhappily ever after. But at least he wasn't alone ...even if he wasn't wanted, he could live with that._**

NCIS DC:

Probationary Special Agent Ellie Bishop stepped off the elevator at 0815 on Monday morning, ready to start a new week after a blissful weekend off, spent with her beloved husband Jake. Granted her in-laws had been visiting but no one's life was perfect – hers came damned close though. Sitting down at her desk she said hello to Gibbs, thinking the boss looked like he hadn't slept all weekend. Had he even taken the week end off? She swore he never went home.

SFA Marc Mendez grinned at her as she greeted him. Tim grunted curtly, immersed in something on his computer but then again, he always seemed to be in a bad mood. She wasn't sure though, maybe that it was just his natural disposition – like Gibbs.

Looking more closely she could see that the computer meme that was driving him crazy for months was back again. It was a photo of a really hot looking bald guy with eyes and lips to die for. She might consider leaving Jake if he was available. _Just kidding, Jake honey! _But she didn't get the significance of the text which read: 'At least without hair his head's not too big, is it McBackstabber?

Hot guy's head looked just fine to her. Damned fine actually. Meanwhile, Tim seemed determined to get it off his computer but every time he thought it was gone, it would turn up again. Obviously someone at the office was playing a joke but no one was talking. Which was incredibly infuriating to the information analyst because she hated not being able to make sense of things and place them in neat little boxes.

Shrugging, knowing that no one would clue her in, she fired up her computer. Ellie checked her emails before opening up the NCIS intranet to check out official announcements and requests for data or sharing of cases between the various field offices, as well as not so official announcements and notifications from Human Resources. As her speciality was information gathering and analysis, she immediately noticed the notification that the pilot program of information sharing being trialled out of the New York Office had now been evaluated by a consultant and credited with statistically significant improvement in staff morale and increased solve rates. Sec. Nav. had authorised the roll out of the model across all the field teams, agency wide.

Now Director Vance was calling for volunteers from each office to spend a week in New York ,observing the program in situ and bring back their feedback and training to become peer coaches for their own individual field offices. Meanwhile HR would be working with training consultants to help implement the model gradually across the whole agency.

Ellie had been sharing this news with the rest of the team as she absorbed the content of the announcement. She looked at Gibbs and Mendez pleadingly.

"Can I volunteer to be the one to check it out it in New York – it is kind of my bailiwick," she observed hopefully.

Gibbs grunted, he didn't care about that sort of crap and wasn't really paying attention. He would ignore it like he ignored most directives from TPTB. Marc nodded, a secretive smile giving nothing away.

"Sure, knock yourself out. If no one else has volunteered yet."

Squealing in excitement Ellie sent off the request to be considered. "It sounds really interesting. They're calling it 'The Camp-fire Informational Model of Intelligence Sharing. This'll be right up you alley, Tim. It involves digital video recording of the data gathered to facilitate sharing with other teams and specialist consultants."

Ellie wondered why McGee who was taking a sip of coffee at the time, started choking, spitting his long black all over his computer keyboard.

ISHT

Marc Mendez swept into the bullpen, dropping information packs on everyone's desk, exchanging an amused glance over the partitions with his former SSA Balboa whose current senior field agent was performing a similar role for his old team.

"What the devil's this?" Gibbs growled.

"I thought we were on cold cases this week. I was going to create a new computer algorithm." McGee objected.

"Oh crap, Marc. If you'd told me about this yesterday, I wouldn't have applied my fake tan til the weekend," Bishop groused before her natural good humour reasserted itself. "Paint ball manoeuvres? Are we going to go up against each other? Call shotgun on Gibb." She chuckled smugly, thinking she'd kick Tim and Marc's butts.

"Nope, us against Rocky's team," Mendez grinned, noticing that McGee looked less than thrilled, knowing the Elf Lord preferred the virtual type of conquests and duels to getting sweaty and out of breath.

"Why are we running round playing goodies and baddies, we already do it for real?" He demanded.

"It's called a Team Building exercise, Special Agent McGee. Get used to it!" Director Vance responded, coming up behind Tim. "The New York office instituted regular team activities and there has been a dramatic decrease in stress leave, less accidents and higher productivity. HR recommended it be adopted agency wise. I concurred."

ISHT

Sec Nav Sarah Porter descended the stairs from the director's office and started making her way around the bullpen pausing at Special Agent Ellie Bishop's desk to hand her a individually addressed, ivory coloured invitation before stopping at Ned Dornaget's desk and giving him an ecru tinted personally addressed envelope. She proceeded to stop at various people's desks to distribute invitations to selected field agents. Agent Balboa watched her greeting everyone as she made her way round the room, working the crowd like the practised politician she indubitably was.

After Sec Nav's departure the team sans Gibbs, who was curious but too cool to show it, crowded around to see what she had been invited to. Passing it over, she explained as she perused the additional information.

"The new Cassidy-Todd Foundation is holding an inaugural Spa Weekend for female agents to encourage mentoring between experienced female agents and new ones. They will have information sessions specially geared toward issues that are unique to female agents, like managing reproductive issues and career trajectories, potential discrimination during pregnancy and child care, dealing with generalised discrimination in the workplace and financial planning."

Carlton Banes, a young, rather ambitious agent from financial crimes called out to Dornaget. "They starting a support group for spatially challenged agents, Dornie?" A cruel jibe referring to the fact that the young agent wasn't the most graceful of individuals.

Grinning, the agent shook his head. "Nuh Banes, Sec Nav invited some of the up and comers to contribute to a think tank looking at innovative crime investigation practises."

Balboa swallowed down a guffaw at the swallowed- sour- milk expression on Agent Banes face. Frankly, he found the little jerk far too smug and thoroughly enjoyed Ned's put down that had young Charlton worried about what he'd done or who he'd offended to miss out on an invite. Rocky already knew that it was an invite to a mentoring program for Gay, Lesbian and Transgender NCIS agents, primarily to support probie agents but also more established ones, too. Not that he blame Dornie for not sharing that info with the rest of the staff. He might be loud and proud about his sexuality but there were other agents who were more circumspect about their orientation and the young agent was respectful of their feelings. Balboa understood that those agents who were employed prior to the repealing of DADT had far different experiences of working in Law Enforcement to the younger ones.

As he leant back in his seat, Balboa had to hand it to Tony. These two mentoring programs plus the team building days – paintball, rock climbing, abseiling, ball room dancing and sailing had all been brilliant. Aside from the Team Building aspects, it had been great for stress reduction too. And the Campfires were already paying dividends – other agencies, especially smaller ones like the Coast Guard were looking at the feasibility of implementing campfires to share and analyse data ,as well. Just wait til Gibbs found out the latest innovation that he'd gotten approval to implement. Tony was being a very busy boy.

Jethro was going to go completely postal when Leon announced the Anger Management Program. Rocky was already nicknaming it the L.J. Gibbs Program and it featured daily meditation and decaf tea and coffee and yoga along with counselling and anger management information sessions. He figured Tony's experience as he battled lung cancer had shaped his recommendations on techniques to deal with anger- that and 12 years dealing with Jethro.

Leon had confided that even before he returned to field agent status, DiNozzo had completely turned morale around in the New York office after an incompetent assistant director cut a swathe of destruction through the office. He'd even lifted closure rates before he took over as SSA of the top ranked team. Already he was impacting, with three high profile cases closed out and a score of cold cases with fresh leads.

He'd improved relations with the NYPD and organised for young probies from the force and NCIS to serve as liaisons on a rostered exchange basis to learn tolerance, improve communication and working relationships. Balboa thought that this was such a deceptively simple concept but it had enormous potential to change attitudes. A hugely important outcome.

He was looking forward to catching up with him next weekend when he and his wife Jules were heading up to see a Broadway show. They were going to dinner before the show with him and his fiancée Emma and they were putting them up in their apartment spare room. It would be great to catch up – he really missed Tony a lot.

ISHT

Gibbs was trying to make his ever dwindling level of coffee last until the meeting ended. He decided that next time he would be bringing in a thermos so he didn't have to ration himself because he had a feeling his was going to need it before the meeting was over. He hated these stupid monthly talkfests with a passion but lately they have been even worse. Vance was a man on a mission, determined to bring all these damned stupid innovations in to make his existence a misery. There was nothing wrong with the way they had been doing things but typical bureaucrats – they were always tinkering with things that weren't broken, trying to justify their existence.

Vance had yet to announce the latest 'improvement' and the former Marine rolled his eyes. He ran his team the way that Mike Franks ran the MCRT – well he'd added a couple of extra rules – and there was nothing wrong with his team. All these efficiency geeks and PhDs – Mike used to call them pretenders - getting called doctor without spending time dissecting cadavers just more big-headed and dumb. And didn't all this kinda prove his theory was spot on.

When SSA Agent Grimes finished whatever the Hell he was droning on about – demanding hypo-allergenic hand wash in the bathroom or doors on the head that were voice command operated so you didn't have to re-contaminate your hand by touching the door handle when you were leaving. Basically, Jethro zone out when Grimes started talking. The guy could make watching paint drying seem exciting.

"Thanks Grimes, I'll take those observations to the appropriate department heads," the Director shut him down mid-sentence and everyone sighed in relief. "Before we finish up I have an announcement about how supplies and equipment in our crime scene trucks are configured. Following much positive feedback about the innovations in the New York field office, we've studied them exhaustively and determined that the changes are much more effective way to organise the space. Sec Nav Porter has ordered that the changes be implemented agency wide."

He distributed a hard copy of the New York model as he spoke, knowing that some of the SSA were petrified old dinosaurs and preferred having a piece of paper in their hands. As they looked at it, Leon continued. "I'll be sending an electronic version to all field staff later today. Any comments or questions?"

Gibbs studied the changes, his irritation quickly morphing to feeling smug. The New York office had just adopted the MCRT's crime scene truck's organisation of supplies and equipment. Score one for Mike Franks! Bet the old rascal was lookin on and pissing himself laughing.

Balboa grinned. "Yeah Director. My team already use this model. Works well, too. I think you'll find that since Special Agent DiNozzo came up with it in the mid noughties when he was in charge of the MCRT, all the SSA's convinced us to try it. All the DC teams adopted it years ago and never looked back."

"This is Mike Franks, method Balboa." Gibbs objected.

"No Gibbs, this was one of the changes that Tony brought in. Actually it is the only change that you didn't get rid of when you returned from Mexico and tossed him out of the job. Guess you don't remember – your memory was definitely still crap then. You called me Pacci a few times."

Vance stepped in before things got heated. "So all the DC field teams are already compliant with this change?" Getting nods form everyone he concluded the meeting. "Okay then, no action is required and I don't need to bother sending this plan out to the DC staff. Thank-you everyone for your attendance. Same time next month."

Gibbs followed him out of the conference room back to his office, having finally put two and two together about DiNozzo being in New York. Vance had expected the campfires to tip him off but he had ignored the whole program... in fact most of the innovations but that was nothing new.

"Why didn't ya tell me that DiNozzo was back working, Leon? And that he was in New York."

"I wasn't aware it was any of your business or that you cared, Gibbs."

"Of course I care. He's my SFA and friend."

Vance raised one eyebrow. "He was your SFA – he's Supervisory Special Agent of the MCRT in New York, now. As for being your friend – we have a different idea of what constitutes friendship, Jethro. So now you know – I take it you'll want time off so you can go and see him? Mend some bridges, apologise for your behaviour? Perhaps explain why you never contacted him, since you knew where he was being treated after stealing his private journal and reading it? Might want to apologise for reading his private thoughts and feelings. He's pretty upset."

"I'm too busy right now Leon. Got a cold case that's about to turn red hot." He stalled, before turning and leaving the director's office, speedily.

He by-passed the office and ended up in Autopsy where Jimmy and Ducky were engaged in a lively discussion about putrefaction. Although he really wanted to talk to Ducky privately, his mouth engaged before his brain. He was obviously spending too much time around Palmer – it was catching. Barging in he blurted out, "Duck, did you know that DiNozzo is at the New York field office?"

Watching as the elderly ME glanced impassively at him, he switched, spearing his laser-like glare at Palmer who was so much easier to crack. Watching Jimmy's Sergeant Shultz façade start to crumble in under 20 seconds, he scowled at Ducky. So you did know? Why didn't you say something? I had a right to know. Is he okay? Have you seen him?" He groused.

Ducky sighed, looking at Palmer sadly. "Mr Palmer, you really could do with some introductory lessons in subterfuge, dear boy. Yes we knew, Jethro. Anthony wanted nothing to do with his old life here in DC, including us. I suspect when he thought that he might only have weeks or months to live, he wanted to focus on being positive and living in the present and even friends from his time here were associated with things he wanted to ignore. No, we haven't seen him since he returned. He asked for time to establish himself and put down some roots in his new home, although he does email us occasionally. He's hinted that he was going to issue an invitation soon. And as far as I know, he is currently in remission but like any other cancer survivor, that is no guarantee that the cancer won't return."

Jimmy chimed in, "If he stays in remission for five years, it's generally considered to be a cure… although it can still come back."

"Mr Palmer is quite correct. I knew an orthodontist who beat breast cancer – she swore by collecting and drinking her own urine, emulating the great Mahatma Ghandi who was a great advocate of drinking his early morning urine to help mediate. Aurora also observed a strict macrobiotic diet, meditated daily and brewed a variety of herbal teas. She remained cancer free for 17 years but it did eventually return." He suddenly noticed Jimmy and Gibbs observing him incredulously.

"She drank her own urine?" Jimmy exclaimed.

"We were instructed in the Corps that since it is 95 percent water, as a survival strategy when there is no fresh water available that it could keep us alive but your saying she drank it willingly?" Gibbs demanded.

"Uropathy is an ancient form of medicine, practised by many cultures." Ducky replied. "Young Timothy is slathering himself in urine with his many moisturisers every day and millions of women use urine on their faces too. Even down here with our hand creams, we are applying urine to our hands to keep them soft and smooth."

Seeing Jimmy's horrified expression, he chuckled. "You are a doctor Mr Palmer – shame on you. Where do you think urea comes from which is a common ingredient in moisturisers? Or the enzyme urokinase that is used to break up clots in medical treatment – it also is derived from urine. I suppose you also don't know that early morning urine is very high in Melatonin ,a sleep hormone which is why it is used by meditation and yoga proponents. You must be more open minded, my boy." He scolded, jokingly.

Resolving to never use any moisturiser crap on his skin again, Gibbs refocused on the question that Ducky had so adeptly avoided. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought everyone knew that urea was urine Jethro or drinking urine had health benefits? I was sure that I shared with you that time when I was in Zimbabwe, although it was still known as Rhodesia back then, anyway those tribesman shared an aphrodisiac concoction with me of baboon urine and beer. How remiss of me to…"

"Duck, I meant about DiNozzo. I had a right to know."

Looking him in the eyes, he stopped prevaricating. "Because I didn't want you badgering the lad when he was trying to forge a fresh start or try to get him to come back to DC. And because you could have reached out to him while he was ill and you didn't. Why didn't you?"

And Gibbs had no answer to that and it pissed him off.

ISHT

Gibbs lead his team back to the bullpen, fuming. He'd been in a state ever since he found out about DiNozzo returning to work and that others knew too, including Balboa and Mendez and didn't tell him, which sent him into a rage. Then on the case today, that Detective McCadden was wanting to know about DiNozzo… why he left, where was he. He kept on yammering until Gibbs wanted to clean his clock.

McGee was pissy too over some remark the Metro cop made. Said now that he wasn't Tim's partner Tony wouldn't feel like he had to defend him anymore. That they could be buddies again. Told McGee he hoped he realised how lucky he was to have DiNozzo for a partner and a friend.

He and Mendez went on and on about DiNozzo til finally Gibbs ordered him off his crime scene, rather forcefully. He snapped at their Probie Bishop when she asked a probie question and later ripped her and his SFA a new one when she asked about what McCadden meant about defending McGee. He was short with Ducky and reduced the coffee barrister to tears before scaring the new security guard into pissing his pants and it wasn't even mid day.

After a meeting with the Director he was ready to explode and had to head down to the gym, dragging his team with him so he could let off steam. Seems McCadden was supposed to be working a joint case with them since it looked as if they were dealing with a serial killer and the Metro bigwigs took exception to him manhandling their detective off the scene.

Vance had delivered an official caution which didn't bother him really. It wouldn't be the first and probably not his last either. Then Leon Vanced dropped the bombshell. He was going to be the first participant in the new Anger Management Program that was being instituted agency wide. That was like waving a red rag at a bull.

"Over my dead body, Leon."

The director shook his head. "Not a suggestion, not a request. That was an order. You don't have a choice if you want to work at NCIS. If you refuse… there's the door!"

Gibbs stomped off before he made things worse. Vance had him over a barrel and he knew it. He'd already told him that his job was all he had and Jethro was hanging on to it by a thread.


	9. Chapter 9 Perspectives

Warning: Fans of McGee will probably be offended by content herein but the solution is simple. The back button is there for a reason and you are perfectly free to write the perfect story yourself.

A/N Just wanted to quickly thank people for alerting, faving and reviewing. I love getting reviews and comments as distinct from trolls leaving anonymous flames. At the end of this chapter is my response to a number of disturbing comments which I felt required a response. Bullying is endemic on sites like this but when people single out vulnerable sub-groups and cyber bully, I believe it is important to call them on their despicable behaviour. (Aussies and Kiwis reading will need no reminder of Charlotte Dawson but others can Google her.) Please feel free to opt out at the end of the chapter if you don't wish to read my lengthy response. I'll also take this opportunity to publicly thank people who are fans of other characters and who remain civil when leaving comments. It would be a boring world if we all had identical thoughts but I refuse to accept that people have a right to bully because I don't share your views. Also the story hit a bump, I had to pause the story to do something I don't usually do which is to throw out the ending I had planned and rewrite it. After finding out that the Forces of Darkness are using their powers for evil to convince TPTB that Tony shouldn't be in a mature, happy relationship this season, I decided to write way way outside my comfort zone and get shippy but done with a twist (Sundance style lol.) Back on track now :)

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 9

Ellie Bishop stepped off the elevator after a week away at the New York field office. It had been an extremely interesting visit, in more ways than one. Certainly, it answered some questions but it raised others in that most annoying manner that mental problem solving was wont to do. And yet normally, Ellie enjoyed it when that happened, since she loved wrestling to make sense of information. It was like doing jigsaw puzzles except they were inside her head and the feeling she experienced when she began to assemble the picture was always exhilarating… except for this one. While she already had begun to assemble and make some sense of the picture, the portrait wasn't pleasant to look at. Still, she hadn't collected all the data yet and as she kept reminding herself, there were two sides to every story, so perhaps the picture was different to what it appeared right now.

Everyone in the bull pen noticed that although Bishop was enthusiastic about the new campfire method of information sharing, she was also pensive and quiet. Marc Mendez soon found himself cornered, at the first opportunity in the break room.

"Can I talk to you, Marc?"

"What's up, Ellie?"

"I found out, is what's up. Why didn't you tell me that Tony used to be the SFA aka 'hot bald guy' on the team?" Bishop enquired.

Marc shrugged.

"He said he didn't know anything about a meme or how it kept on showing up on Tim's computer. I believe him, he looked surprised when I mentioned it."

"All true, it was done after he left. He called after you spilled the beans and told me to call off the prank. He said he only plays jokes on friends and family."

Marc wouldn't tell her who was behind the prank or why but Ellie knew that someone would be prepared to gossip, especially if they thought she already knew about it. Once she had discovered the whole story behind the prank though, Bishop kind of wished she hadn't dug up the truth. It made her feel pretty disappointed, cynical even.

Ellie had always looked up to Delilah Fielding, especially after Operation Pin Drop. The DoD cryptologist was legendary in the counter-terrorism community and while her professional respect for the analyst remained undiminished, she felt like the pedestal she had her on was crumbling. As was the friendship that had slowly flourished since the attack by the explosives packed drone had left her paralysed. Ellie couldn't help wondering about all those weekly Skype calls to keep in touch were genuine attempts at a friendship. What did Tim, Delilah (and of course her girlfriends) really think or say about Ellie Bishop behind her back, after their calls had ended?

Were they laughing about her quirks with food associating or maybe her appearance? She had always paranoid over the size of her nose – perhaps they were all laughing at her behind her back because of her daddy-long-legs, spider-like appendages. After all, she'd only been on the team for less than a year and Anthony DiNozzo had been team mates with McGee for a decade and it hadn't stopped McGee dissing him. Her new reserve on their Skype calls finally attracted Delilah's attention and she demanded to know what she'd done to offend her.

Deciding not to beat around the bush, she answered honestly. "I heard something that disturbed me, Delilah and made me wonder if I could trust you and Tim. He told Anthony DiNozzo that you and your BFFs thought his head was too big for his body, got a big old laugh over it. Did you really laugh about him with your buddies?"

"Well I have to say that's rich, him complaining with all the torture he subjected Tim to," Delilah protested.

"So it is true? And for the record he didn't say anything – it was one of the probies on another team who heard Tim taunting him. It didn't go down too well with other agents, to tell you the truth. Tony is very popular here, still."

"Well he's an obnoxious, juvenile jerk and made Tim's life a misery. He never treated him with the respect he deserved."

"How do you know that? Did you ever see it?"

"No, not exactly although I saw him teasing him and all the nicknames. But Tim told me what he'd done and he doesn't lie to me."

Bishop thought about the first time she'd met Fielding in the elevator. How McGee had lied to Delilah about not being able to go to the Institute black-tie dinner where she was to be awarded a fellowship for her work in counter -terrorism. How he'd made excuses and blamed Gibbs for not giving them time off. Which was so blatantly obvious that he was lying through his teeth since if the boss never gave them time off, then how did he manage to find time to date her in the first place? Mind, Gibbs had cut him off at the knees, demanding to know if he didn't want to go and then telling him in front of Delilah, not to use him as an excuse. Still Bishop held her tongue, knowing that Fielding believed Tim's version of reality without question.

After she'd tricked her into thinking she already knew, Junior Special Agent Lisa Tran – office gossip extraordinaire - had let the cat out of the bag about 'hot bald guy meme' and what had prompted it. That impelled Bishop into what was practically her default setting of digging into the biographical details of SSA Anthony DiNozzo. As an Intel analyst, gathering data was a natural to her as breathing. When she started working on Gibbs' team, she'd automatically pulled together dossiers on them all to help her to figure them out, but never bothered with previous team members. Until now!

Looking over what she'd found, she was struck by quite a few things that let her draw inferences about the SSA and it wasn't exactly a pretty picture. Who disowned a 12 year old child? She'd grown up with three brothers and loving parents and simply couldn't imagine what a kid could do to earn that kind of treatment. A string of traumas also emerged. Losing his mother in mysterious circumstances at the ripe old age of eight had her tender heart wincing. A spotless record at the military academy he'd been dumped in, before earning a full scholarship to OSU, where it looked as if things were starting to turn around for him. But no…a devastating injury ruined dreams of a professional sports career. Then there was the rescue of one child out of a burning building but being unable to save the boy's baby sister. All taking place before he left college and pointed to an individual who had known great adversity in his young life.

That he wanted to help other people and had become a detective at an unheard of age, was impressive and pointed to a talented, ambitious yet caring individual. Ellie also found it even more impressive that he seemed to have lived through great hardship without lugging around a giant chip on his shoulder. Or use his upbringing as an excuse either, since none of the people she talked to, had any idea of his background. They all thought he'd lived a charmed life in a Long Island Mansion as a child but he was still a popular figure, even despite the presumption that he'd enjoyed a golden childhood. The same people weren't so complimentary about his colleagues, claiming that the junior agents had been disrespectful and insubordinate and Gibbs had treated him like crap.

That the team had ignored the chain of command didn't make sense to her since McGee's father was an Admiral so he'd grown up as a Navy Brat. He would have learnt about chain-of-command, virtually at his mother's breast. The other junior agent, Former SA Ziva David had spent her obligatory two years in the Israeli Defence Force. Ellie was certain that disobeying and questioning orders of a superior would be as likely to occur there as pink elephants dressed in tutus and doing ballet.

And then there was Gibbs, who as a former gunnery sergeant with the Marines was equally well acquainted with the importance of chain- of-command. Ellie was pretty sure the Corp didn't have only one Boss and a bunch of privates following orders either. It made absolutely no sense for Gibbs to ignore the chain-of-command so why did he do it? She was going to have a long chat with Marc about what she'd discovered. She wasn't feeling so secure that the team would have her back in the field and since she didn't have a lot of field experience, the notion made her rather nervous.

Thinking about the lead agent she'd met in New York and her impressions of him, plus the Intel she'd put together, a picture had begun to coalesce. Then there was Jimmy and Ducky's input of the teasing of McGee. She'd arrived at the conclusion that while Tony had excellent people skills in many social situations, he sucked at close interpersonal relationships, especially with people he thought of as family, like his team mates. Ducky concluded he'd used the somewhat limited social skills he'd learnt in the fraternity at college to interact with them, in the belief that family/ close friends related to each other by teasing, pranks and rough-housing, based on what he'd observed in the frat-house.

And the nicknames. Well Jimmy Palmer revealed that Tony had given him several nicknames, (unlike his predecessor who he hadn't managed to get close to) and Jimmy was thrilled because he felt that he'd been accepted. Unlike Tim who was definitely not ecstatic and who Tony also gave nicknames to… an never ending list of nicknames. To Jimmy and most others it was a sign of affection but not to McGee, obviously it was a insult. Which just didn't add up. After all, Abby also gave people nicknames on a regular basis, including him and he didn't get shirty with her. Even Gibbs according to scuttlebutt, had several nicknames for Tim, although based on their relationship, she had difficulty envisaging it. But she had no reason to disbelieve Ducky. MuhGee she could kind of see where that came from but what was Elf Lord all about? Yet it was DiNozzo who earned Tim's ire over nicknames – what was that about?

Ellie found herself thinking about her own happy childhood, where not getting a coveted computer game was a devastating catastrophe, resulting in her thinking her life sucked and her parents hated her. Then she thought about a little boy in a huge house with no siblings to play with and two parents who were drunk and when they did pay him any mind, treating him like a mini adult. Why did she keep getting mental images of cheesy 70's sitcoms Mork and Mindy and that irritating alien Alf, trying to fit into human society but not quite getting it right? DiNozzo was definitely a fish out of water, although obviously not a real alien, of course.

DiNozzo's clumsy attempts to relate to people he felt close to, was a good example of why developmental milestones were so important and why it was important that they occurred at appropriate ages. Playing catch-up at college had left him without an appropriate frame of reference for what was normal and probably taken everything he saw at face value. But it was an understandable deficit – at least in her eyes and earned him some slack in the area of friendships. Pretty much everyone agreed he didn't set out to offend when he'd teased his team mates but there hadn't seemed to be any empathy for his childhood from said team.

If they'd really had such a problem with him, then why not explain it to him and then help him to develop new behaviours. That was a basic tenet of behaviour modification that led to successful change but if someone didn't have an alternative to replace the behaviour they exhibited then how the Heck were they supposed to change? You could bitch and moan as much as you like but unless the person knew what you wanted, complaining would get you squat. And ganging up on him and belittling him wasn't exactly a mature approach to problem solving.

Ellie wasn't nearly as ready to cut Tim and Delilah slack though because at least according to what she'd put together for Tim's bio, he had a loving sister, parents and a eccentric, opinionated grandmother to guide him growing up. While they obviously hadn't been the perfect TV family, just your average normal, dysfunctional nuclear one, they were a heck of a lot more than DiNozzo had. Yes, Tim didn't get on with his dad, who was reportedly domineering and dismissive but the old man had still bought him a fancy car when he turned sixteen. Not the actions of a cruel unfeeling parent, so he must have loved his son even if he didn't show it. Plenty of people had fathers who set impossible standards yet it was surely better than indifference, drunkenness and being disowned.

Tim had a pretty big chip on his shoulder about his father. Shame it hadn't made him a bit more empathetic about Tony's background, though. It wasn't as if he couldn't have done the same bio searches as she'd done either. And yet, even without it, she wondered why he couldn't see what had been so clear to others - that Tony had thought of Tim as his little brother.

Sighing, she thought about sharing what she'd uncovered about Tony with Delilah but figured she wouldn't want to listen. Clearly she saw him as the evil one and wouldn't heed any Intel that painted him in a positive light. People always found excuses to justify their beliefs when you showed them to be false or at the very least, only one side of the coin. It would be a waste of time and Ellie's gran always said you could die of want of breath. She did however, decide to share one small snippet with the cryptographer, though.

"Well I have to say, it makes me wonder what you, McGee and your girlfriends find to laugh about with me or Marc behind our backs. And FYI Delilah, I was talking to a ex Norfolk detective the other day that was a former buddy of DiNozzo's. Being a detective before joining NCIS they had a lot in common." _No doubt he would have been treated with some unaccustomed respect by Detective Philip McCadden, who spoke glowingly about Tony's skills and accomplishments when she'd gone out to coffee with him. Which made Tony's sacrifice of his friendship all the more poignant. _"When McCadden started making disparaging remarks about McGee and Ziva, Tony immediately broken off their friendship in support of his teammates. Pity Tim didn't hold him in a similar regard. Turns out that McCadden was right – he deserved better that Tim as a friend, cuz he was a sucky friend."

Delilah had gone white, before protesting that she would never belittle Ellie, not responding to the info about McCadden. Ellie responded to that, saying that trust was a tenuous thread that could be broken. Bishop wasn't sure that their friendship could survive. Actually, although she respected the Hell out of Delilah Fielding professionally and always would, she wasn't sure she wanted to be her friend. Some friendships weren't worth it.

ISHT

Ducky strolled along, the mid-day sun feeling pleasant on his exposed skin. A gentle zephyr-like breeze tousled his still vigorous head of hair as he made his way to the bench where he was meeting Leon for lunch. He wasn't sure what it was that the director wanted to discuss, possibly he changes that had been occurring. He'd been watching the innovations over the past months with a combination of wonder and approval. The morale in the office, after several years of great turmoil, trauma and stress was at an all-time high. Stress leave was down and productivity was up – making the director and the bureaucrats beam. There was definitely a much more cooperative atmosphere around.

It was a shame that Jethro had fallen back into his default setting of out of control, angry bastard again, though. After Tony's departure and Jackson Gibbs' demise, Gibbs had been unusually vulnerable and open and he'd shared several heart to hearts with his oldest friend at NCIS. Ducky was surprised at the things that Gibbs had revealed about why Tony had gone. Surprised and outraged but also with a degree of optimism that Gibbs was finally ready to do the grunt work on fixing some of his most serious of character flaws that made him so alone.

It was something all other mere mortals had to accept – that they were far from perfect paragons of virtue and therefore needed to work on minimising their faults, build on their strong points and make it easier for other people who were important to them, to be around them. Something that Gibbs seemed to have no desire to address, seeming to feel that with his great loss, no one deserved to be happy, not him, not the women he married and not his team.

Then the twin blows of losing Anthony's respect and presence and his father's passing had brought home to him his vulnerability. Ducky had strongly encouraged him to seek out Anthony and make peace with him. To apologise and return his journal – outraged that Jethro had stolen it and read it. Such a shocking breach of trust demanded a mea culpea, if anything did. Rule 6 be damned!

Unfortunately, he couldn't force the stubborn fool to go and speak to Anthony and his period of remorse, guilt and insight was sadly short lived. Ducky understood that change was difficult, especially for Jethro and apologies were utterly foreign but he was still bitterly disappointed at the lost opportunity. His reluctance to confront Anthony resulted in him inevitably slipping back into bad habits.

In fact, Ducky believed that after so many years being angry at the whole world and being allowed to get away with the most outrageous behaviour, that wouldn't have been out of place in a toddler. Unfortunately, he had the body and mind of an adult, a very Machiavellian one at that and was able to create a great deal more chaos. The ME believed that after so many years, Jethro had created a neural loop that physiologically made anger his default setting where changing the status quo would be an uphill task. Impossible unless Gibbs was truly motivated to want to change. Sadly, he seemed to decide that he was too old to change or the fact that Tony and Jack were gone negated any attempt to even try.

Clearly he didn't feel that his other colleagues deserved consideration and Ducky could see Gibbs removal from the field soon, leading to the man ending up even more embittered than he was already- his heart petrified as he ended up a dried up husk in his basement. It was such a sad irony that Jackson had been younger at heart than his son, who seemed to almost revel in his own misery. And sharing it around!

Arriving at the wooden bench, he observed that the director was waiting for him already, with two brown paper bag lunches for both of them, including 2 pieces of fruit and two bottles of water. No doubt his assistant had procured lunch for them and Ducky made a mental note to thank her later. As he sat down and greeted the director, he busied himself unwrapping his sandwich, observing it was turkey and salad, he nodded approvingly.

Sipping his water, he thanked his boss for the food before enquiring, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Leon?" The elderly ME felt that the lunch break and their location was sufficiently informal to permit the familiarity.

"I thought you might appreciate the view, Ducky," Leon smirked, indicating the crowd steadily accumulating on the lower lawn to their right.

Ducky hadn't noticed the throng but once he did, then his keen powers of observation noted many senior special agents, including Balboa and a very grumpy looking Jethro, along with heads of departments and supervisors. Noting with wry amusement that they were all wearing loose white cotton trousers and shirts with high Mandarin collars and frog buttons, he shot a curious glance at Vance, wondering what the Dickens was going on. Just then a rather wizen little figure crossed the lawn with a spryness belying her apparent chronological age, although her skin rather resembled a partly dried prune. Upon reaching the front of the group she proceeded to bow formally to the group.

"What is going on, Director?" He asked, although as the class (for it rapidly became apparent that was what it was) got under way, Ducky was struck speechless as it dawned on him what he was witnessing. Indeed in one of his early trips to Peking as Beijing was previously known, hundreds of thousands of the cities inhabitants would turn out every morning to practise the martial art of Tai Chi. He had taken some classes and heartily approved of both the health and psychological benefits. Watching the glum looks, he realised that most of them were there under sufferance.

"Another innovation to improve employee health and psychological welfare, courtesy of the New York office." Leon replied.

"Why do they all look so dour, Leon? Martin Evans from Financials looked happier when I sutured his hand last week, after he dropped a glass."

The director smirked. "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be macho enough as other forms of martial arts. So in an attempt to encourage all employees to benefit, I made it mandatory for supervisors to take a weekly class for 12 weeks. My name is Mudd," he explained, unnecessarily.

Ducky chuckled, looking at Gibbs face that looked like thunder. As they started going through the familiar movements, he found himself identifying movements. Pat the wild horse mane, White crane spreads it's wings and Hand strums the lute brought back lots of memories of his trip. He suddenly realised that the director was using his smart phone to take oodles of photos of the group as they proceeded through the movements.

Exchanging a grin with the ME, Leon felt compelled to explain. "Sec Nav requested lots of photos, Ducky." He continued snapping as Ducky identified Grasp the bird's tail, Waves hands as clouds. Leon captured a perfect shot of Gibbs performing Needles at sea bottom, looking like he was about ready to explode.

"Two requests, Leon. First, would it be possible for myself and Mr Palmer to join the class if he is interested? I heartily approve of Tia Chi and would love to see it become a regular fixture."

"Absolutely, Doctor. And the second thing?"

"Young Anthony is facing his six monthly post remission scans again tomorrow and I'm sure is suitably apprehensive. May I get copies of those photos to send to him? I'm sure they'd cheer him up, especially the one of Gibbs performing Needles at sea bottom."

Ducky was still quite mortified that he'd misjudged the situation with Anthony so badly when he'd assumed that he was pining for Ms David. He was terribly ashamed that the poor fellow was facing such a dreadful health scare and felt like he couldn't share it with his former team mates. Ducky had no idea that things had gotten so bad for him and yet he knew that it was really a whole lot of cumulative 'bad' over the years.

As much as he'd been the team's whipping boy and seemed to relish the challenge, in hindsight Ducky had to have to have rocks in his head to believe it for a moment. It would be like keeping a thoroughbred of impeccable racing credentials shut up in a stable constantly and never be allowed to race, much less stretch out his legs. And when he was permitted to leave the claustrophobic confines of his box, to be harnessed up to a plough, considered a draught horse and treated with derision. How could anyone ever be fine with that and really, why should they?

Seeing Anthony throw off the traces that had kept him trapped had obviously been pleasing, as was the news that Anthony had gone into remission. It was something that he hadn't honestly expected give the diagnosis but he was truly delighted he'd been proved wrong. Just as he was thrilled to hear about his successes in New York. And when Anthony had tentatively extended the hand of friendship, Ducky had been determined not to blow it a second time and was careful not to take him for granted or just as importantly, overstep the mark.

Leon laughed heartily. "I had planned to CC them to Tony as well as SecNav but feel free by all means, Ducky. Tell me, do you know if the rumours about him getting married are true? I admit that it seems a bit fanciful, he's such a player."

Ducky looked sad. "On the contrary Director, it was being left at the altar by his hussy of fiancée that made him afraid of relinquishing that much power to destroy him to another individual, again. And then there was that horrendous debacle with the beautiful Dr Benoit that made him even more gun-shy. It would seem he has finally found someone who he feels is worth taking a risk on. He is a gentle, loving soul and I wish him and his betrothed every happiness. If anyone deserves to be happy, it is our young friend.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes: <strong>

To the guest who like others of their ilk, lack the courage of their convictions to leave their flames whilst signed in, I have to publicly thank you for being the catalyst for a great new idea for a story. A while ago I was seriously contemplating leaving this site because of people such as yourself but since I write to highlight issues I find important such as child abuse and neglect , intolerance and bullying your behaviour is proof positive that leaving would simply be handing bullies a victory.

Many people advise ignoring individuals whose aim is to stop views that don't mesh with their own being expressed by flaming. But bullies don't just go away if you pretend they aren't there. You have to confront them and stare them down and while I don't choose to do that every single time, this particular troll was always going to be called out when they decided to mock people living with mental health issues. While I am fortunate not to be one, I have friends who are and there are people on this site that are coping with mental health conditions, people who could be harmed by your callous and unacceptable remarks. And there but for the grace of God go any of us, even you. I just hope if that happens then people treat you with the respect you seem incapable of extending to others.

Having a background in behaviour, I am certainly curious why my story threatens you so much that you would leave three offensive messages rather than using the back button and stop reading. No one forced you to read and I give warnings with all my stories. I can only concluded that you must have experienced a serious case of cognitive dissonance. CD is an extreme internal sense of discomfort or turmoil when strongly held opinions and beliefs are challenged and shown to be incongruent with reality. However that's no excuse for insulting individuals with mental health challenges - you seem to be suggesting that people requiring medication are not entitled to express their opinions or that their opinions are somehow less valid than yours. And dear Guest, that view is repugnant to intelligent, empathetic people.

It also is rather ironic that Tim's passive aggressiveness is always brushed off by some of his fans such as people like you because of hi means domineering father and the bullying he received because at school. Yet they vilify Tony whose upbringing is one of serious neglect, abuse and abandonment. His lack of socialisation at an appropriate developmental stage, since he was living with a pair of drug addicts as a child, certainly means that his behaviour is often inappropriate but carries no malice. Unlike the rest of the team who gang up against him to belittle him on a regular basis to cut him down to size or get one over him. Despite their actions, his loyalty means he still protects them, and has saved all of them on numerous occasions, risking his own life to do so, yet there is no acknowledgement of that - only hate from you and your ilk and teasing from the team.

That these trolls who unsurprisingly, use passive aggressive anonymous flames to belittle and wound writers who dare to not see McGee as the' poor little victim' but instead see him as intent on making himself feel superior by hitting Tony below the belt, is ironic to say the least. They attempt to refute his behaviour in Better Angels by focusing on peripheral arguments that Tony said this to McGee once, or Tony ate McGee's sandwich 8 years ago – missing the main point that it is a question of intention behind his actions. Plus the fact that it frequently is the team collectively ganging up against Tony, which in my book is bullying. The flamers deliberately avoid the big picture because they can't justify it and so instead focus on refuting minor details.

The difference is that Tony's intention isn't to hurt his probie or anyone else, it is just how he has been socialised - receiving this socialisation belatedly as a young adult taught him to believe this is how family behaves towards each. But McGee's intention in Better Angels was obviously not teasing of his team mate. A team mate who was also his superior and could have, by rights, busted his insubordinate ass for his behaviour, except like every other time, DiNozzo turns the other cheek because he thinks that's what family do for each other.

And if you want to use the tit for tat argument which the trolls utilise because they can't refute the failures that have occurred in the field or the insubordination that is so blatant in episodes such as Bounce, then by all means let's play that game. In Leap of Faith, Tony's gratitude to McGee for saving him is obvious and immediate when he says thank-you, while the churlishness of Tim and Cate after he'd saved them from the car bomb in Twilight is stark and ugly. There was no thanks forthcoming for risking his life to save theirs and when told to rest by Gibbs because he was blown up, they taunted him and tipped a bottle of water over him. Or let's compare Tony's clumsy but well intentioned support of Tim during Probie – how he talked him out of resigning and he opened up and shared a highly personal, embarrassing story, contrasting with Tim's obvious glee at his team mate's distress at being wrongly accused of murder and Tim's repeated attempts to kick Tony when he was down, during Framed. Let's parallel McGee's delight at Tony's discomfort whenever Senior is around versus Tony's failure to reciprocate when McGee's father hits town and he was struggling emotionally in his father's presence.

Plenty more examples that I could compare and contrast but this rant is long enough. Still I do find it amazing that some people such as mu dear Guest seem to feel McGee is such a nice guy, totally innocent and Tony is obnoxious and deserves what he gets from the team. Or that when they just can't refute Tim's actions i.e. Dead Air, that it is always 'Evil Ziva' who is a corrupting influence and makes him do it. While I am most certainly no fan of Ziva either, he is a federal agent, an intelligent adult and if he is that easily corrupted by someone else, then he really is a shocking security risk and shouldn't be an agent. Mind you, I find the Ziva made me do it argument specious.

He was insubordinate and dismissive of Tony's skill, intelligence, experience and position as his immediate superior when Cate was on the team and he is a rookie, so I don't find the 'Ziva's to blame' excuse all that convincing. In Guilty Pleasures, Detective McCadden dissing Tim, saw Tony kicking his so called bromance to the curb but compare that to McGee and Delilah in Better Angels making fun of Tony, along with her girlfriends like a bunch of kindergarten kids. And then Tim deliberately telling him about it just to hurt him, like a bully in the playground and yet no Cate or Ziva in sight but maybe we should blame Delilah for corrupting him? (Yeah, I did say I was done with the comparisons, didn't I)

Yet the Guest can't see anything wrong in the episode Better Angels. Not the insubordination, the meanness, the attempt to undermine his position. No it is justified because Tony stole chocolate from the vending machine and Tim's apple and sandwich. Obviously that must have been why he felt it was a good idea to turn off the radio in Dead Air – no wait Ziva made him do it!

Certain Tim fans seems to think that Tony FFs should be like the show and simply accept the insubordination, the failure to follow orders or COC, not to mention the failures in the field because 'Tony stole Tim's sandwich once.' Yet even as they attack me personally and mock individuals with mental health conditions to justify their favourite character's behaviour, they fail to grasp a simple concept that it isn't about a sandwich or yoghurt but the intent behind it. In Better Angels as in plenty of episodes such as Bounce, it is McGee's intention to cause hurt for no good reason that I find abhorrent because it is treated as a great joke by the writers and subsequently many viewers. Like so many other situations portrayed on the show, there are no consequences for their actions.

That some people have such little empathy for the Anthony DiNozzo Jr character, people like our hysterical and vituperative guest reviewer, strongly suggests that we need more stories about Tony not less as the reviewer would like, since they obviously threaten their view of their favourite character. So I again thank them for feeding my already hyperactive muse. Hopefully other Tony writers will be similarly inspired by their contumelious attack as well.

I have never claimed that Tony is an angel, rather that he has some pretty serious psychological flaws. Yet given the childhood he has experienced and having to bring himself up, he is also empathetic, loyal, caring, and ready to sacrifice himself to save others. He forgives his team mates even when they don't deserve it and should be reported and makes excuses for them even as they treat him like crap. I am aware Tony is a fictitious character (although I do wonder at the trolls) but there are plenty of real Tony's out there in the real world who experience neglect and abuse, who grow up with parents who are addicts which has a profound effect on them into their adult lives. They need our understanding and empathy, not to be treated with the cruelty that he puts up with from his so called de-facto family and simply accepts as his due as the excoriating reviewer believes he and writers such as myself should do.


	10. Chapter 10 Some Days are Diamonds

Warnings: To be on the safe side Abby and Ziva fans could find content herein to be offensive. Might I suggest that you try writing your own stories - that way you'll get your perfect fiction.

A/N Thanks to all who left feedback, alerted or faved. I was mostly overwhelmed by your comments and not surprised by the Tony haters but I thank them for at least keeping their responses civil. Just to quickly clarify because I think some people might have been confused - I wasn't broken by a troll suggesting that I had mental health issues. What I was however, was extremely angry since I do know people who are battling to overcome the challenges of of psychological illness and know that these comments could have done untold harm. In no way does it makes their opinions and right to express themselves any less valid than anyone else whether they require medication or not. After all we don't stop ignorant or bigoted people expressing themselves (altho the trolls do make a strong case for it lol) but words have great power to harm and the vitriolic bullying could easily have caused a situation like the tragic one with Charlotte Dawson, if it was directed to someone fragile Therefore I chose to speak up. I'm also really tired of a small group of people dictating what people who don't share their views write. There are authors out there who share similar views to me, that either have stopped posting or seriously self-censor their stories because they have seen the bullying by what one wit has called the McVicTim trolls who cyber stalk people like me, attempting to drive us away. They deliberately seek out Tony-centric writers and attack us, while most of us regardless of our preference either read and don't flame or bully writers who we don't agree with, or don't read the stories in the first place (which is my own modus operandi.) So these bullies were not going to chase me off but I still thank people for their support - regardless of who their favourite characters are. Most of us are mature enough and intelligent enough to live and let live. Some of my best buds are Gibbs fans and they are almost without exception, unfailing polite and reasonable individuals and I suspect that McGee fans are too -with the exception of the rabid few. Thanks guys :)

As promised, I got shippy in this chapter and as someone who feels decidedly out of my depth in this area I await your feedback with interest. Hope you enjoy it.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 11

Abby Scuito was not a happy Goth, in fact she was downright snarky. As she was fond of proclaiming often enough, she didn't do well with change and there was certainly change aplenty at the moment. Just like in the days when a brand new Director Shepard had swept in after the death of one of their own, bringing with her a wave of change. That had included an Israeli liaison officer and ordering her to observe the dress code which resulted in Abby developing a severe allergy to her clothes. And now, once again she found herself with an insatiable itch to all the change, one that couldn't be scratched. Of course the fact that her two favourite men – her Silver Fox and Timmy were grumpy didn't help matters any, either.

It wasn't only that they'd been grumpy with each other since Tony left and Timmy hadn't been given the SFA job. It was that Gibbs seemed to be in a perpetually bad mood these days and that included being cranky with Abby, too and she was supposed to be his favourite. She totally wasn't feeling the love. Meanwhile, the scuttlebutt was that he was being forced to retire – which was so unfair because bureaucratic rules shouldn't apply to Gibbs – he already had his Gibbs rules. They should leave him alone.

And the scuttlebutt was also that Marc Mendez was remaining as SFA and Balboa was going to take over as Supervisory Special Agent of the MCRT. That left Timmy like a shag on a rock with nowhere to go. Needless to say he was very unhappy and he was biting her head off almost as much as Gibbs. She needed love and adulation and wasn't getting it from her guys and that made her crazy.

Abby couldn't understand why Timmy had been overlooked. He'd been on the MCRT for a decade and had even filled in as SFA for Tony a few times when he'd been injured or undercover. When Gibbs had bypassed him and given the position to Mendez, Timmy had gone to the director to protest but it seems like Leon had withdrawn his support for Timmy and he was left out in the cold. No one would tell her why, no matter how many times she stomped her foot, pouted her Goth lips or punched Timmy's bicep. It drove her crazy!

Life at NCIS was just plain hinky. In the space of eighteen months their little family had simply fallen apart. First Tony, Ziva and Timmy had resigned to stop the sucky Richard Parsons person trying to hurt her Silver Fox and then Parsa tried to kill them all. Although Tony and Timmy came home, Ziva didn't and that was when the team started to fall apart. If Ziva had come back to DC like she was supposed to, then everything would be hunky dory not hinky. Maybe Gibbs would still be forced to retire from the field but maybe not. And Tony was supposed to take over the team from Gibbs, not Balboa – he wasn't a part of their family – Tony was. Then Timmy would have become the senior field agent and Ziva the junior field agent and Timmy could have gotten a probie who would complete their little family and everyone would have been happy.

Ziva had upset their symmetry and left a big gaping hole that had effected their ju-ju. In order to restore the balance it seemed obvious to Abby that if she returned to NCIS and the team, the balance would be restored. It was so simple that Abby was shocked that she didn't think of it sooner. The forensic scientist was excited to think that soon Ziva and Tony would be back where they belonged and Gibbs would find a way to defy the bureaucrats. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger, he would just tell those nasty bullies to 'kiss his ass' and everything would be perfect again. Now she was feeling angry with herself for not thinking of it sooner. Grabbing her phone, she started rehearsing what she should say.

Deciding to text her immediately and then organise a Skype call later, since she didn't know whether Ziva's quest to find absolution for her sins would mean she'd be able to talk right now. Abby felt her sack cloth and ashes routine was too little, too late but after eighteen months surely she'd gotten it out of her system. Abby needed her family back again before she scratched all her skin off.

Quickly she fired off a text:

Ziva we need yu. Come home.

Too excited to hang around in her lab, she decided to go and share her plan with Ducky, certain he would be ecstatic too. In fact he could be present for the Skype call and help to persuade her to return. Ducky was pretty persuasive when he set his mind to it.

ISHT

"Who's gonna call Emma and let her know about Tony?" Probationary agent Jodhi Crisp quipped, only half joking.

Dane Larson and Lisle Zabinski exchanged horrified glances. Zabinski pointed at Dane. "I vote Mr Smooth here. Emma likes him, so it will be better coming from him."

"Oh no you don't. You're his Senior Field Agent. That's why you get paid the danger money, Little Boss."

"And as your superior in rank and smarts, I'm making an executive decision to protect the team's acting lead agent's cute butt. That would be me, Dane and sacrificing yours for the greater good. Man up, Larson."

"Oh thank you so very much Zabinski." The agent grimaced before turning his head to look over his shoulder at his ass. Smirking, he observed, "So Crispy, you heard Little Boss, she said I had a cute ass." He wiggled it provocatively.

"Give me the phone, I'll do it," Jodhi rolled her eyes at his antics, noting that his butt was pretty damned cute. It would be a shame if anything happened to it. "How did you guys manage to let him get a concussion anyway? You know that Emma had a romantic dinner and dancing planned tonight. We promised to get him there in one piece. She's going to kill us."

"Yeah I know Probie," Lisle acknowledge, not looking forward to facing Emma Ingham. "But in our defence, I have to say that I've never worked with an agent that shows greater affinity for getting injured in the field. I've started going grey since I got promoted to DiNozzo's SFA and I'm only 33." She revealed, indignantly.

Their junior agent grinned, his smooth shaved head and dark skin contrasting with his white straight teeth. The females in the office spent their tea breaks debating if Dane Larson or Tony DiNozzo had the best smile and it was usually a tied decision – everyone agreeing they both could turn females to mush with their grins. "Yeah he needs his own body guard 24/7 but to be fair, none of us knew that a deaf kid was going to walk out into the confrontation like that. Not even Tony. We figured everyone would hear the gunfire and stay put."

Their probie, decided it would be prudent to have all the pertinent details before she rang Emma, plus she was procrastinating so she asked, "So how did the boss get a concussion?"

"He snatched the kid up and bundled him down the stairs doing a tuck and roll, whacking his head on the way down. He was too busy worrying about guarding the boy from harm to worry about himself."

"Sounds about right. Tony is on a crusade to save as many people as inhumanly possible. Do you think he's a reincarnated Arthurian knight?" Jodhi enquired as she took a deep breath before hitting the speed dial.

"Hallo Emma?"

ISHT

"Duckman, I need need need your help to persuade Ziva to come home so we can be a family again. Everything is all wrong and I need your support to fix our family. Once Ziva comes back, Tony will come back too and my Silver Fox will be able to do that voodoo and banish the pencil pushers trying to cast him out of his kingdom and then everything will be fine again. And Timmy and Gibbs will stop grumping at each other.

Ducky shook his head exasperatedly. "Abigail, you need to accept that change is inevitable and that people leave. Even if Ziva came back it wouldn't bring Anthony back to DC. He's happy where he is and has a new team in New York and a wonderful lassie who is doing marvellous things for his esteem. He's happy, finally."

"No Ducky, it's not right, he can't be happy. He's supposed to be with Ziva, they're meant to be together."

"Abigail, if that was so, they would have gotten together. You are not to meddle in their affairs. You must give me your solemn vow that you will not try to contact Ms David and convince her to return. She has chosen a path that doesn't include us and you must respect her desire to seek absolution in whatever fashion she sees fit."

When the Goth forensic scientist remained silent, the ME crossed over, tipped her chin up so he could stare directly into her pale green orbs. "Abigail, I'm not joking. I want your word, immediately, Missy!"

"But Duckman, I already sent her a text."

"Well no more, my dear. You as a scientist know the need we humans have for change in order to grow and prosper. You need to embrace it or you will never survive."

"But Ducky, I want my family back." _Foot stomp."_ Why are they making Gibbs retire and why are Timmy and Gibbs so angry at each other." C_rossed arms and double foot stomp. "_Why isn't Timmy Gibbs SFA?" _Pouty face._ "And if Gibbs leaves, why won't they give his job to Tony. He was supposed to take Gibbs place. It's not fair. Is it because he was sick? That's discrimination." _Abby finished up with a scowl followed by tears and quadruple double stomp. Her finale was picking up his forceps and flinging them at the freezer drawers._

"Really Abigail, how many off those ridiculously overly caffeinated concoctions have you consumed today? Don't you think that it's time you cut back, perhaps started acting your age? But be that as it may, Gibbs is past mandatory retirement age for field agents and he's chosen not to remain in a desk job, If Timothy or Jethro wanted you to know what their difficulties were, they would have informed you. And Anthony was offered Jethro's job and I understand he refused it."

"But Ducky, that can't be right. Why would Tony knock it back – he wanted to take over when Gibbs retired – not that I think it's fair that he has to go."

Sighing long sufferingly, he decided brutally honesty might rob their energiser bunny of her steam. "Anthony doesn't want to take over the MCRT from Jethro because of the churlish way he was treated by people you insist are family after the last time he was the leader. Telling him that he was no Gibbs when he tried to maintain continuity and then throwing temper tantrums when he tried to change things convinced him he could never win, so he decided to go where his skills were appreciated. His so called family chased him away, so now you will do him the courtesy of letting him be happy."

ISHT

When Ziva David woke she checked her phone and discovered the text from Abby. When she first left, she and the forensic scientist stayed in contact more frequently but as time passed their contact become more sporadic as the passage of time loosen their bond. Mind, most of their conversations were Abby trying to persuade her to come back. Determined to find redemption for the assassinations and deaths that she'd carried out over the years, she had no intention of returning to NCIS and tuned out much of what Abby had said. Discovering her brother had a secret life she'd known nothing about, had made her see him and her other victims as people and that had shaken her world. It was much more complex than Abby seemed to think.

Since she had known her, Ziva had adopted a strategy of ignoring much of what came out of the Goth's mouth, so it wasn't all that difficult. What she had always found hard to understand was why an intelligent female would feel the need to act like a little girl. Ziva understood wearing schoolgirl skirts, pigtails and knee highs to portray a Lolita persona to seduce someone. Yet this didn't seem to be the intent behind Abby's getdown. She seemed to enjoy people fussing her and treating her like a child, although Ziva guessed it was really because it allowed her to behave outrageously.

Still this morning as she stared at her text, she admitted that Abby's idea had merit. She really didn't find redemption to be all it was crapped up to be. Perhaps it was time to let it go and move on. It was time to go home and take up her life again. Tony would help her to get her job back again. Gibbs might be poopy but DiNozzo would golly him around. Feeling lighter than she had in months, she sent Abby a text: we must talk - call me.

Now after a week of trying to contact Abby and getting no response, Ziva decided to take the cow by the horns and return to DC. She had much to do organising and packing up her meagre belongings. She had given away most of her worldly possessions in her bid for redemption. Looking back, all it had achieved was that she felt deprived and cranky. Time to head back to the materialistic, celebrity obsessed US and her old life. Abby was in for a pretty big surprise – still that would teach her to not answer her texts and calls.

ISHT

Emma sat in her fiancé's hospital room, thankful that this time it was just a concussion he had been admitted for. She'd already had spent far too much time in hospital rooms with Tony. It certainly could have been so much worse, since it was a minor miracle that he hadn't been shoot as he scrambled to save the life of an eleven year old boy. As she waited for him to be returned from tests, Emma took a bite of the BLT that she'd grabbed from the cafeteria. It was a far cry from the date they had planned tonight but there was always next time.

One thing she was grateful for, was that Tony was quite a romantic. After coming to New York, she'd been wined and dined around all the premier spots in Manhattan. They'd take strolls hand in hand in Central Park, go to the opera, ballet, Broadway shows, and museums. They took long leisurely picnics together and went on weekends away. The Catskills Mountains were a favourite spot of theirs, they also stayed in cosy B & Bs in Vermont and sailed around Long Island Sound. Yet perhaps her most romantic memory so far was their engagement.

It was quintessential Tony, playful and romantic. And yet Emma despaired of ever getting him to propose to her. It was the same old same old. She'd inform him she wasn't going anywhere and that carpe diem was their motto and Tony would settle down for a bit until he would talk himself into doubting that he should be in a committed relationship. Arguing that they didn't know how long his cancer would stay in remission and it wasn't fair to her.

Finally, she reached the conclusion that the only way to stop Tony trying to act all noble and push her away for her own good was to propose to the idiot and marry him, ASAP. So as much as she loved it when he organised romantic dates for her, she took the initiative, booking them in at their favourite Italian restaurant. Gone were the regular pizzas, carb heavy, creamy rich sauces in his new regime to eat as healthily as possible but the Mediterranean influences of fresh vegetables and seafood was something that they did eat regularly. Having spent so much time in Italy, Emma in particular had become addicted to the regional cooking style. Poor Tony didn't get much chance to sample the wonderful foods, between nausea, ulcerated mouth, oesophagus and intestinal tract and getting him to eat anything had been challenging. Not to mention that the cancer treatment had made all food taste metallic.

So they'd had a wonderful romantic meal before she'd dragged him to the top of the Empire State Building and proposed to him. Yeah, she cheerfully admitted that it was cheesy but hey, they were living in New York and prior to becoming a couple, her favourite romcom chickflick was without doubt Sleepless in Seattle. Yet as romantic as it was, when she noticed a worry line on Tony's brow she got assertive and told him that she wasn't going to be chased off.

"Tony, if I had to choose, I'd rather be married to you for a day if that was all the time we had together than a lifetime with someone else. You make me laugh, you're kind and caring and all the nurses on my ward would steal you in a minute if I let my guard down. They are green with envy when they hear about our wonderful dates. We both know that you have to live for today and take nothing for granted but that isn't a bad philosophy to live by. I love that with all that has happened you have remained positive, you make us all laugh."

Seeing he was still hesitating, she sighed. Yes she was assertive when she was "Nurse Emma" but somehow when she was in relationships she was the one to let the guy make the first move. But all along in her relationship with Tony, she'd had to pursue him, knowing that if she'd taken a backward step, they'd never have gotten together. And she knew enough about what made Tony tick to understand that without their support system, he might not have made it. He was a guy that craved affection, yet had spent most of his life alone. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that she was going to have to give him a 'gentle' push.

"Tony, if you say no, I'm just going to have to drag you back here once a week til you give in because you are not getting rid of me. I love you… you idiot and that's all that matters. So will you marry me?" Determined to seal the deal she leaned into him and gave him a searing kiss that made her wish that she'd opted for a less public venue.

Afterwards, Tony had kissed her back and somewhere along the way they lost a good thirty minutes making out before they found somewhere a bit sheltered and shadowy and just snuggled together for the longest time. That was one of Tony's guilty secrets, after a childhood mostly bereft of physical affection. It was something that he desperately needed but didn't know how to accept.

He'd sought it through sexual liaisons, especially after two disastrous relationships with Wendy and Jeanne but the cancer had changed all that. Treatment had put a serious kink in their bedroom activities but he finally learnt how to accept being cuddled and hugged. It had been a serious adjunct to his therapy and Emma was firmly convinced that it contributed to his remission. Now he was an expert snuggler and while he was no slouch in the bedroom, they both relished time just wrapped up in each other's arms, like tonight. She would cherish this memory even if he had needed a prod to get there.

As they cuddled together in the shadows, they discussed when to get married and where. She didn't want a huge ostentatious wedding and she knew that he wouldn't either. But she'd always dreamt of getting married in a picturesque chapel by the sea. Emma was hopping that they could find somewhere on Long Island or Rhode Island but knew that his childhood was tied to these places and might have painful associations. Ultimately, it didn't matter where it happened as long as it did.

Eventually, they were getting chilled and Tony suggested that they go somewhere and get coffee and then go dancing. Emma loved dancing and Tony was pretty good at it. It was yet another enigma that while his alcoholic parents neglected him horribly, they were big on making sure he learnt skills that would impress Senior's business partners or as Tony cynically referred to them, Senior's marks. So it meant that Little Tony was privately tutored in ballroom dancing, golf, fencing, elocution, music and horse riding – specifically dressage and polo. Seriously some people didn't deserve to have kids.

Emma had years of dance classes as a child not because her parents decided it would be good for her but because she loved it. She'd dreamt of becoming a prima ballerina until she hit puberty and grew too tall. Tony was the first guy she knew that didn't mind taking her dancing and for that reason alone, her friends reckoned he was a keeper.

So they'd grabbed a cab and Tony had directed the driver to stop by their apartment, telling her he needed to collect something. Later as they warmed up over coffees, she found out why. With a shy nervous smile he pulled something small out of his pocket.

Presenting her with a ring box, he crushed her in a hug that literally stole her breath away. "Em, I bought this for you a while ago but I never could never summon the courage to propose to you since I can't offer you a long and happy future. But you seem not to care about that, love of my life, so please accept this ring as a token of our love."

Opening the box Emma was stunned. Tony had impeccable taste…ordinarily. In fact when it came to fashion, she was willing to concede he knew more than she did about designers and loved going with her to buy designer gowns. And the jewellery he'd given her as gifts had been beautiful and tasteful. But her engagement ring was anything but. It was yellow gold – which Emma didn't wear, the sapphire was large and chunky and the setting was overly fussy and way too large for her small hand. Yet seeing the hopeful look on Tony's face, a look full of tenderness and love, how could she tell him the truth…that she absolutely hated the ring.

Why the Hell hadn't she picked out the engagement and wedding rings for both of them before she proposed. Idiot! Now she was left with the terrible choice of breaking his heart and telling him his taste in engagement rings sucked or wearing the damned thing for eternity. Unless she could lose it, that is. Maybe she could accidently drop it down the drain in the bathroom, except that it was so huge and clunky she doubted if it would fit. Looking at his hopeful expression she just couldn't do it.

Smiling awkwardly, she responded. "Oh Tony, I don't know what to say. Thank-you."

"You really like it Em? You're not just saying that? Because you can always change it if you don't like it."

Knowing that he would be offended if she changed it, she assured him she loved it and his face was one giant beam. Dragging her off to dance the night away, she managed to focus on what was more important than a stupid piece of jewellery. Once they were married she hoped it would stop his regular attacks of guilt. Personally she had a good feeling about him staying in remission long term, but she would gladly stay with him for however long or short that time was. Actually, she thought he was at greater risk in his job of getting shot or stabbed but cops and agents still got married anyway.

She could hardly believe it but they danced until nearly dawn before going for a ride in a horse drawn carriage around the park. She was so tired that all she could think of was falling into bed with her goofy fiancé who seemed to be on cloud nine. Finally, as the rose gold fingers of dawn crept across the sky, she found herself snuggling into Tony and using him as a pillow as she dozed. When the carriage stopped, she woke up to Tony calling her.

Come on Em, we're here. Wake up, Sweetheart."

Stumbling with exhaustion she felt herself being lifted down by strong arms. Smelling the blissful aroma of freshly brewed coffee, she managed to force her eyes partly open to find that Tony was offering her not only coffee but a pastry.

"Sorry Ms Ingham, due to the short notice I had to forgo the cat, but for the rest, enjoy," He teased her happily.

Eventually, realising that they hadn't returned home to their apartment and registering where they were, she looked at him as he held her coffee and pastry out to her to take it. She decided she must be dreaming. Or else it was the most romantic thing anyone had done for her.

"Tony DiNozzo, am I dreaming?" Seeing him shake his head, she grinned. Only Tony would recreate that iconic scene from Breakfast at Tiffany's after dancing the night away with her. Hugging him one-armed, she accepted the coffee and pastry, wondering how he had organised both without her knowing. Seeing one of his agent's, Dane Larson hovering nearby, Emma realised he must have called him last night from the apartment. Talk about sneaky!

"So my darling fiancée, do you want to wait here till they open or go home and sleep and come back after brunch – a late brunch?"

"Come back? Wait here? What are you talking about, Tony?"

"I'm talking about choosing your engagement ring so we can get it engraved, Em."

Seeing her confusion he started laughing. "You are a wonderful person Emma Ingham but a terrible liar. You hate that ugly piece of metal I gave you. It was my mother's engagement ring and according to her maid she loathed it as well. Senior went for the most ostentation piece of crap he could find – keen to impress all his business contacts. I wanted to surprise you."

"You tricked me?" Emma demanded, unsure whether to be outraged or relieved. Since she wouldn't have to wear that ugly ring and was going to pick out one at Tiffany's and Co she decided to go with relieved and ecstatic. "How did you manage to pull it off? I thought you'd be devastated if I didn't wear it?"

Hearing Dane laugh as he strolled over and explained. "The boss is an undercover genius. He could sell potatoes to the Irish, honestly. Congratulations, Emma!" He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, you're forgiven I guess but I still want a cat DiNozzo - a lilac tortie Burmese." Emma joked.

Chuckling, Tony thanked Dane for his help in the scam, before asking her did she want to wait for the shop to open or come back later. Deciding that the shop would still be there later and bed sounded good, she opted for the latter as Tony hailed a cab, offering to drop Dane off on their way home.

Smiling fondly, she waited for Tony to come back from his MRI because of his history of multiple concussions, not to mention over a decade of that lunatic whacking him across the back of the head, Emma looked down at her left hand. Her real engagement ring was a dainty white gold setting and the neat princess cut pink diamond was perfect. She loved her ring but what made it even more special was how she'd come to receive it.


	11. Chapter 11 Game Strategies

A/N: Hi everyone. Thanks for all your reviews, favs and alerts for this story. I'm glad that I didn't create too many dental cavities with my Emma/Tony shipping. And in answer to queries about my reluctance to venture into shippiness, I have a terrible phobia about sounding like a cheap romance novel with heaving bosoms and throbbing manhoods lol. I have to say, I'm devastated that you hated the appearance of one for Israeli assassin but I did promise a twist. ;) Consider it my revenge for the squillions of Ziza returns to save Tony from himself FFs over the last year.

One final point. I am pretty liberal about letting trolls comments get through the review filter. I rarely delete reviews and I have no intention of turning off the option for guests to leave comments because most people don't abuse the privilege - waves enthusiastically to gotgoats (who I'm sure won't mind me saying is a big Gibbs fan) and rik (another of my regular reviewers). There are plenty of others who for whatever reason leave guest reviews too and I thank-you all for using the facility responsibly. You guys are one of the reasons I haven't opted out of FF dot net. :D Unfortunately trolls will always take advantage and while I''m much more lenient than many authors - and just out of interest, after reading their comments does anyone think they would be as tolerant? But I've reached maximum tolerance levels and I've stopped approving the flames of trolls and will do so from this point on. You want to "chat" with others - get an account and use it. Don't use the review feature to chat. You want to comment on the story - kill me for bringing Ziva back :)) then that's all good. Want to talk about my sentence structure, plot or character development or the fact that I use Aussie/English spelling, then cool. Want to talk about issues raised in the story about child abuse and neglect or substance abuse - I'm doing a happy dance because we need to raise awareness - the bigotry displayed is proof positive of that. But whine about a character that you don't like when you've been warned... well that is just... sad. Have the courage of your convictions, get an account and go and write your own fanfics - that way you can read exactly what you want to. And now folks, I return you to your regular viewing program and hope you enjoy the next chapter.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 12 Tim McGee had been trying for some time to find his muse so he was a bit surprised when his literary agent contacted him just before DiNozzo went on sick leave.

Flashback August 20th 2013:

Tim McGee stared at the email informing him of the screen date of the adaptation of his Deep Six book in the Movie of the Week Slot. His agent informed him that the Hallmark channel was wanting to purchase the screen rights for his first book and although the fee wasn't exorbitant, it had been a fair sum of money. But more important than the money, he was trying to generate interest because after several years of writer's block and several forays into other genres, he'd decided to return to his roots. in a fortuitous twist he'd only days before finally come up with an outline for a new book that he was happy with. So the prospect of using the publicity generated by the making of Deep Six into a telemovie couldn't have come at a better time.

At first he'd questioned Lynley Aimes his agent, about the Hallmark Channel because as far as he knew he thought they made birthday cards. His agent had been rather vague but suggested that since he was a professional investigator, maybe he should investigate. So after a quick foray into the Google SE he discovered that they had a mystery movie section that made… unsurprisingly mystery movies. Which he supposed fitted in with his procedural drama theme well enough. And while they obviously didn't have huge budgets for special effects or big-name stars like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise starring in their programs, he didn't think that would be a problem. Judging by the publicity shots and trailers on their website, they always had genetically blessed or cosmetically enhanced actors and actresses cast in their movies. So at least he didn't have to worry about Agent McGregor being played by anyone ugly.

Plus, he told himself, it wasn't as if a procedural crime drama required computer generated effects to film it adequately. Deep Six was no Matrix or Avatar so that probably wasn't too much of a concern. And lastly, it wasn't as if other producers or indeed production companies were beating a path to his door, either. No one else had expressed interest in securing the film-rights and as Penny often said, never look a gift horse in the mouth, so he signed the contract.

With a bit of luck, the release of his book could be coordinated to take advantage of the airing of the telemovie. That way he could cross promote both events and that would have to be a good thing for book sales. Tim knew that a full time career as a successful writer and a federal agent, especially one that was in a leadership role was ultimately incompatible. He would need to decide sooner or later which fork in the road to take but for a while he would play the waiting game.

One path offered much greater pecuniary rewards and adulation. That undercover gig where he posed as Thom E. Gemcity and had fan girls hanging off his arms had been a pretty intoxicating experience (even if they were Michelle Lee, Ziva and Abby, all undercover.) It was definitely not a path to be dismissed out of hand, by any means. Plus, all the trappings that went along with being a celebrity had to be considered, too. The money, the clothes and cars, the premier events, parties and opening nights were hard to refuse.

Yet his ambitious nature recognised that power could also be a heady and potent reinforcer, reminded him of a long cherished goal of becoming Director of the agency. The incumbent in the chair had indicated that he had many of the characteristics that would stand him in good stead, not the least of which was Leon Vance's public support. While the financial recompense would never match the level of money that a celebrity lifestyle would generate, a directorship or even deputy directorship would not leave him a pauper either. And his relationship with Delilah was another factor to be considered. She was a renowned cryptographer and while she would admire his success in gaining a directorship or deputy directorship, Tim really didn't think she was the sort to be impressed by a dinner party invitation by Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton.

Still, even if he did decide to forgo a celebrity career, the success generated by his notoriety could still be used by a canny and ambitious individual to negotiate better working conditions and promotions than someone with no other prospects than someone like DiNozzo. It was with all this in mind that he signed the contract giving the Hallmark Channel the screen rights to Deep Six. Having resolved that particular dilemma, he then got to work on his next book, finding it was much harder to fit in his writing around his work and his relationship with Delilah. Having a long distance relationship was proving difficult and exhausting enough, and he found that he had to abandon his beloved typewriter in favour of his tablet or even his smart phone to jot join scenes, often while he was on hold in phone queues or stuck in traffic. He even became adept at jotting down passages while he was cooking meals. It was astonishing what could be achieved by multitasking, although he missed the long all-nighters, just Gemcity, his pipe and trusty antique typewriter.

24th February 2015

Now, as he stared at the email from the producer, informing him of the screen date, he immediately forwarded it to his agent so she could coordinate it with the release of his new Deep Six book which was ready and waiting for a coordinated release. Sighing as he thought about how much had changed in the intervening months between signing away the screen rights and now, he realised just how much was now riding on successfully coordinating and taking advantage of the cross publicity. Thanks to his former team mate dropping him in the crap, he had managed to lose the support of the director.

What a wimp DiNozzo was for telling Gibbs that Ziva and he hadn't been observing protocol during the undercover operation at Royal Woods. First off, it had happen years ago and second, nothing had even happened. The case was solved and the only thing bad that happened was that the idiot lost his voice. If they'd had to listen to his voice for the whole time, their ears would have been bleeding – the man was so infuriating. And it wasn't as if he and Ziva weren't in the car watching his back. They were there if any trouble had occurred but they were in a gated community for Pete's sake.

But for this, Gibbs and Vance had overlooked his promotion to senior field agent? He deserved the job and was eminently qualified. More importantly, he need the promotion to progress to supervisory special Agent of the MCRT. Without it, he would never make it to the top job. He'd turned down an excellent job in Japan a couple of years ago, mostly because he figured that the chances of him reaching the directorship via a cyber/technical pathway was pretty slim. The last two directors were both former agents that had extensive field experience before climbing up the ladder. Now, Vance had expressed doubts about his career prospects and withdrawn his support – a really serious blow to his strategy. Now more than eve,r he needed to maximise the positive publicity for his book and movie to be successes.

ISHT

SSA Balboa saw Gibbs heading off to the break room, nodding to several other team leaders who were at a loose end to follow him and bail him up before he could slip away. As he poured a cup of black sludge from the coffee maker into his mug, glaring at it, Jethro took a sip as he turned to see his fellow SSA's crowding into the room with him.

"What the Hell's going on?" He growled, scowling.

Balboa rolled his eyes._ So damned predicable, Jethro. _"Just wanted a quick word about the next team building activity. Thought we could have an impromptu meeting," he explained, since he was in charge of organising the monthly activities.

After conferring with the director they'd decided to change it up a bit and follow the lead of New York once again. Balboa was expecting opposition to the plan – none more so than from Gibbs over this innovation. Taking a deep breath he plunged in.

"We're organising the next team building activity to be a baseball round robin tournament between NCIS and the other alphabet agencies plus the Metro and State PDs – two innings per team. The two top teams from each group will play each other to find the overall winner."

Gibbs shrugged. "Not the first time we've played against the Feebs, Balboa. Used to have an annual match back when Di… years ago. At least it's better than that ballroom dancing crap. I didn't even do that for my exes."

The former Marine was silent as he contemplated the idea further, he grinned predatorily. "I can't wait to whoop Fornell's ass." On that note, he pushed his way out of the break room and headed back to his desk.

Trish Sherringham frowned at Rocky. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"He kinda didn't give me a chance, Trish. Why didn't you stop him?" He countered, glaring at the others.

"You kidding?" Alex Paxton demanded. I aint stopping Leroy Jethro Gibbs' ass when he wants to go somewhere. FYI I don't think the anger management stuff is helping.

Rory O'Leary snickered. "Well not unless it's supposed to be helping him to manage getting angry more often than he used to." He quipped.

Balboa pondered the problem. "Maybe it's better that he doesn't know in advance."

He threw out the suggestion into the ether and saw a mixture of responses from amusement to horror. The truth was that unlike the old adversarial baseball and basketball games, NCIS against the Metro PD and FBI, DiNozzo had come up with a round robin tournament. The difference being that it would be mixed teams of law enforcement professionals playing each other to foster better understanding between the PDs and agencies. The aim was to hopefully smash the ridiculously outdated competitiveness between the various agencies to one up each other, where it still existed. After 9/11 that sort of 'my dick is bigger/better than yours' crap should have no place in their profession, yet jurisdiction was still fiercely contested by some old dinosaurs who should probably have been pensioned off long before now.

Perhaps none more vehemently than a certain Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs whose contempt for other agencies and police departments was the stuff of legend. Being forced to share jurisdiction or God forbid turn over a case over to someone else, resulted in a '_bear whose butt had been blasted with a boatload of buckshot angry.'_ And anyone with a lick of sense stayed out of his way til he calmed down - oh say a few months, minimum. To say he had a poor opinion of his colleagues was definitely not an understatement. Actually, Gibbs had only a slightly more flattering view of his own NCIS colleagues if it came to that and hated to share a case with other teams almost as much as other alphabets. He made wolves look like cuddly Labradors when it came to territoriality.

In fact, Balboa wasn't sure why he even placed so much faith in his MCRT. None of them were recruited from the agency. With the exception of Tim McGee, they were all external transfers, Vivian Blackadder, Stan Burley aka 'Steve,' Tony, Caitlyn Todd, Ziva David, Brett Langer and now NSA whizz-kid analyst Ellie Bishop. McGee certainly hadn't attracted Gibbs attention because of his impressive abilities to solve crimes – he'd earned a shot because of his computer skills, since he had no prior field agent skills. And with the exception of Blackadder and Langer who were former FBI and neither lasted long, Tony was the only one with the background to truly justify getting a gig on the flagship team of the agency. He had a law enforcement background, experience in interviewing suspects and witnesses, knowledge of the law and experience in investigating major crimes including murder, with an impressive closure rate rivalling Gibbs own. And the icing on the cake was his phenomenal ability to go undercover.

The rest might have potential but they were babes in the wood when it came to earning a place on the MCRT and needed extensive training to get them up to speed to be able to investigate major crimes. Which ironically Tony, not Jethro used to provide. The trouble was because of their experience in their own fields, they generally weren't well disposed to being the probies on the team. So they didn't use the opportunity wisely to learn from Tony like they should, believing they deserved their position ahead of many far better qualified and far more experienced NCIS agents. In fact, about the only things that he could see that the disparate individuals on Gibbs team shared apart from potential but no experience were "daddy issues.' vendettas to pursue, like Blackadder or David or owing Gibbs a favour like Caitlyn Todd had when she was forced to resign her previous job. Todd left behind a career in the Secret Service that had been destroyed by a foolish sexual indiscretion before Gibbs had thrown her a lifeline and saved her career, earning her loyalty.

And while Gibbs had a rule about always work as a team, when push came to shove that rule went out the window. When things went wrong, he clearly had little faith in his team since he always went off on his own. Leaving his team feeling impotent while he went all lone wolf and kept all the cards close to his vest. It bore little resemblance to working as a team but then Jethro had always be a 'do as I say, not as I do' kinda guy, from what Balboa could see.

Truth be told, since the mass resignation by the MCRT to save Gibbs' job (even if he was past mandatory retirement age) Rocky had been having uncomfortable thoughts about Gibbs' team. His internal musing today had just helped crystallise that inner voice that had been murmuring a phrase over and over inside his head – Jim Jones, Jonestown and Kool-aid.

Years ago he worked a case where some Marine and Naval personal had returned from deployment to find their families had joined a religious cult. Balboa had learned that cult leaders or gurus were usually highly skilled at seeking out alienated or isolated, lonely individuals, craving social connectedness. The victims were desperate to find meaning and purpose in their lives, and frequently were estranged from parental figures, either by distance or emotional issues.

The cult leader – the self- named Lord Lucifer had made them feel special, unique, wanted and safe. He welcomed them in with open arms and once he had earned their trust and loyalty he worked swiftly at cutting them off at the knees, ruthlessly withdrawing his approval until they were desperate to get it back. He kept the families isolated and prevented them reaching out for help or letting them join in with other military community or family who weren't cult members. He created envy and competition between his flock so that they were all competing for his attention and favours.

The so called 'treat 'em mean to keep 'em keen, philosophy had highly intelligent people prepared to act completely out of character. Demanding that they hand over their children had been the ultimate control and manipulation. Balboa agreed he was a master manipulator and these people were willing to do anything to make him happy, especially if they gained his undivided attention. They say that power corrupts and ultimate power corrupts absolutely and Lord Lucifer had certainly become drunk on the absolute power he'd gained.

Luckily, the scumbag didn't have a military or militia background and his reluctance to appoint trusted lieutenants with actual tactical and weapons experience, capable of planning and implementation of a proper defence played into the Feds hands in the end. They managed to arrest Lord Lucifer and his Soldiers of the Light with a minimum of casualties. Still the much younger Balboa had nightmares for months about what they found when they processed the scene – containers upon containers of cyanide. The scary thing was, that he believed a lot of those brainwashed Marine and Navy dependants would have been persuade to take the poison if they hadn't raided them in time. The degree of control he'd managed to gain was terrifying.

Not liking the direction his thoughts had been drifting, he refocused on the baseball tournament. Deciding not to give Gibbs advance notice of the mixed teams since he'd quite likely try to sabotage the activity, he figured it would be a good test of how that anger management program was really working. Perhaps he'd chat to Fornell and organise for Jethro to play on Tobias' Maryland Maulers team, along with state cops and Homeland Security guys. He'd heard that FBI agent Lina Reyes was captaining the Maulers, which seemed rather appropriate since her rather unflattering nickname was The Pit Bull.

ISHT

Ziva David, pulled her trench coat around her more fully to ward off the chill of the predawn air. Since she was wearing very little underneath, it was a bite chilly. Leaving forward she gave the address for Tony's apartment to the cab driver, figuring that unless she was very unlucky, she would find him home asleep since it was a 'school night.' After much strategizing she decided that it would be a much better plan to just turn up unannounced and catch everyone unawares. That way they wouldn't have time to come up with reasons not to give her old job again. Not that Gibbs would refuse her anything – he considered her his daughter. Still it was better to be certain than sorry.

Ziva wasn't going to leave anything to chance. A spot of seduction was never a bad idea and in this case it would cement her plan. Of course she wouldn't mention wanting her job back again until after the deed was done because DiNozzo had always let Gibbs ridiculous rule 12 prevent him sleeping with her. Even when he temporarily resigned so many years ago and they were forced to give his job to Tony, his trusty beagle still refused to break Gibbs precious rule with her. The former Mossad officer had been highly offended at the time but she'd definitely learned her lesson. This time she would let him think she had come to see him, then she would seduce him and only then, approach the topic of getting her place on the team back again.

She'd tossed up whether to come straight from the airport to Tony's apartment since she had no doubt that she would be staying at his place – at least initially til she had somewhere to stay. He was too much of a gentleman not to offer her a place to stay. But there was still a small chance that they were at the office working on a case, so she didn't want to be burdened with the dead weight of her luggage if he wasn't there. Therefore she'd checked into a hotel, had a scented bubble bath, donned extremely flimsy, extremely expensive lingerie, French perfume, stilettos – and her trench coat. Ah it felt good to be back in the fleshpans of the US.

The cab pulled up outside of Tony's apartment and she stared up at the windows which were in darkness. Perhaps he wasn't home yet. Ziva glanced at the car park and couldn't see his car, but then again it had been wrecked when they were lamb-chopped returning from Dulles airport on their way back from Berlin. He'd wanted to buy her mini when she decided to sell it, but she refused, calling him a car killer. So she didn't actually know what type of car he had now and so he could very well be home and asleep, she supposed.

Getting out of the cab and payed the driver who had been giving her leering looks on the way over from the hotel, almost as if he had X-ray vision. She decided to go on up anyway and let herself in. If Tony was home and asleep, that would just make her task that much simpler since she would slip into bed beside him. Since she knew full well that his preference was to sleep nude, he wouldn't know what hit him. If he wasn't home then she would still climb into his bed and wait for him to get home. She would be a surprise that he couldn't resist.

And frankly, if she was going to let herself into his apartment, it was wise to do this now when the chances of anyone else being out and about in the early hours of the morning were negligible. Americans were so damned fussy about illegal entry. She was constantly being badgered about using her lock picks to gain entry to premises when she'd been an agent. Frankly, most of the time, she'd just tuned them all out. But she definitely didn't want some paranoid neighbour calling the cops on her. That would definitely put a limp in her plans.

ISHT

Ellie Bishop walked into the break room to grab her lunch out of the fridge. Grabbing the bottle of iced white tea she'd brought from home, she glanced over at Special Agent Lisa Tran – a young Eurasian woman that, like Ellie was the rookie on her team of three seasoned male agents. They'd kind of twin-souled since Ellie joined Gibbs team. While they supported each other, Ellie found that Lisa was best handled in small doses since she was the office gossip. And while Bishop craved data, even gossip delivered in an excited fan-girl squeal could often be too much of a good thing – even to an information analyst. When she laid off the 'who was sleeping with who' and 'who was lusting after who' or 'who had broken up with who data,' they'd actually had some pretty cool conversations and she was an excellent listener.

_Duh Ellie, she's a gossip – of course that entails being able to listen as well as impart data! _Smiling at the raven haired beauty who was reading while taking bites of her egg salad sandwich and sips of black tar that would do Gibbs proud, she sat beside her. The weather outside was pretty foul so she decided to join her and eat lunch in the break room. Smiling back at the newest recruit to join the MCRT, Lisa moved her stuff to make room for her and returned her attention to the book she was reading. When she started snorting and pulling weird facial contortions that Ellie – a lover of arcane words and knowledge – knew was called gurning in Cumbria in the UK, she got curious.

"Good book?" She enquired, glancing at the tittle inquisitively. Deep Six by Thom E. Gemcity – not one she was familiar with.

Lisa started choking and after banging her on the back and getting Tran a glass of water, the young woman managed to catch her breath.

When Lisa didn't answer her she prompted. "What's it about?"

Staring at her archly, Lisa said slyly, "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"That it's about the MCRT."

Ellie was surprised. "Why would I know that, Lisa?"

"Well you being an Intel analyst and all, I just assumed. You mentioned you do bios on your team mates. I just figured you knew about McGee's nom de plume or is that pseudonym? I always get those two confused." She explained.

Absently, Ellie explained the distinction, even as she was piecing together what Lisa had revealed. "Simple – nom de plume literally means pen name and is used for writing and pseudonym is a more general term and refers to any name other than your own. It means false name and may refer to a stage name, a professional name, a stripper name – so an undercover name is a pseudonym and a non de plume is also a pseudonym."

"Okay, thanks. So you really had no idea that you have a novelist in your midst?"

Embarrassed that she had missed that piece of data in her Intel search on Tim, she shook her head. ""Fraid not. What's it like?"

Let's just say that it's pretty passive aggressive – like Mommy Dearest, or Postcards from the Edge. For example he writes that the team leader, one L.J. Tibbs drinks to alleviate his messianic complex. He would never dare to say that to Gibbs face and he describes Agent Tommy as swashbuckling, socially repugnant, a dogged pursuer of dirtbags and any skirt over the age of 18. Tommy's currently engaged in a steamy affair with Mossad Officer Lisa who is an Israeli assassin. Do you want me to go on?"

Bishop shook her head. "How did it get published and how'd he keep his job?"

Tran shrugged."Search me."

"Why are you reading it?"

"Well I'm dating a guy in the accounting department of The Hallmark Television Channel and Dirk told me that they've made a telemovie out of Deep Six that will be airing soon. He knew that I worked at NCIS and thought I'd get a kick out of it. When I asked around, I discovered it was based on Gibbs' team. Then Chris in the Financial Fraud Crimes Team reckoned McGee had started writing a new Deep Six book last year. Her family is in the publishing business and it's apparently common knowledge that he's tying the airing of the telemovie to the release of the new Deep Six book."

Ellie felt giddy with all the connections that Lisa had assembled, making a mental note to swear her to secrecy if she wanted to keep something quiet since with her spy network, she was bound to found out. Although she had no doubt that the Intel was probably accurate, she was feeling ambivalent – especially when Tran gave her a speculative look before asking, "How do you think Jake will take it when he turns up in the next Deep Six book?"

She winced, figuring he probably wouldn't be thrilled, especially since he hadn't given permission. Her guy was a pretty private person. "Well I don't think he'll be doing a happy dance about it, Lisa but Tim hasn't anything to get passive aggressive about with Jake, or me either for that matter. So it shouldn't be too bad." She said, trying to look on the bright side of appearing in a book as a character without being asked.

Lisa gave her a pitying look, remaining mute. Being silent was an unheard of state of affairs for the office gossip, which made Ellie even more concerned.

"What?"

"Well Jimmy seems pretty innocuous – not exactly offensive IMHO but Pimmy Jalmer in the book got a little too friendly with Ducky's or I suppose that should be Goosey's friends, if you catch my drift."

"Okay, Jimmy getting hot and heavy with elderly people is a bit disgusting, I'll admit but it could be worse."

Lisa shook her head. "No he wasn't having sex with geriatrics. I agree that is gross but bearable. No Pimmy the autopsy assistant was into necrophilia with the bodies in the morgue."

Ellie felt like her lunch was in danger of coming up. Now she understood Tan's facial contortions. That was really sordid and Jimmy was a nice guy. So what would he have written about her in his new book? That she had food fetishes or she… no not going to go there. Resolving she'd better discover the worst, she went back to her desk and downloaded Deep Six from Amazon. She knew she wouldn't sleep tonight until she knew the worst. Jake was likely to kill him if they were in the book doing what she'd just visualized with food and she had no intention of making conjugal visits to her darling husband. She wondered, could she hack into the publisher and download the latest book?


	12. Chapter 12 Misconceptions

Warnings: This chapter contains passages about McGee and Ziva that may offend their fans. Just to be on the safe side it may also offend hamsters, cougars and guys named Ralph. Any resemblances to any individuals named Cory Wainwright are purely coincidental - no really I made him up - honest.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has responded by reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. Hope you enjoy.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 12

_L.J. Tibbs exited the crime scene investigation truck and looked around at the murder scene. He hated all murders but the young midshipman was barely out of high school. It was such a waste. Sipping his camomile tea, he gave his team, his family a tender glance before handing out the team assignments._

_"Lisa you take photos, please. McGregor why don't you bag and tag today and Tommy you can sketch. When you're done, come and join me and we'll talk to the witness together. You're much better than me with getting civilians to talk, Tommy. Okay Tibblettes, let's get to work."_

_Everyone threw themselves into their work, hoping to find out who would do such a horrible thing to Sharon Tweed, the young sailor lying in Rock Creek Park clad in exercise gear. Everyone worked diligently, Goosey carrying out an initial examination and he and Pimmy Jalmer efficiently readied the corpse to be transported back to NCIS morgue. As his team completed their assignments and made their way back to the truck, Tibbs tossed the keys to Tommy._

_"You drive back, Son. You did good work today with the witnesses." He praised, ruffling the hair of his trusty senior field agent and heading towards the passenger seat._

_McGregor raced to the truck. "Shotgun!"_

_Lisa looked at L.J. He frowned at Agent McGregor. "Now McGregor, what have I told you about sharing?"_

_"That everyone has to share the front seat, Sir. Sorry Lisa!"_

_Tibbs grinned, patting McGregor gently on the cheek. "Good boy! Now get in the back."_

_"Sir, when can I drive the truck?"_

_"When I think you are ready for the responsibility, Son and before you ask too Lisa, when you can observe all the road rules of the USA and not cause our McGregor here to lose his lunch. Then I might just consider it. Remember rule one: always work as a team. That means we are only as strong as our weakest link and Tim has a sensitive stomach."_

_Lisa nodded. "Yes Tibbs."_

_When they got back to headquarters they got out of the truck and gathered for a group hug._

Sarah MaGee, hit the pause button on the blu-ray player and exchanged an incredulous look with her brother. Sipping her glass of red wine, she raised a well-coiffed eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Avoiding her gaze, he shrugged. "I told you Sarah, it's the telemovie that they made from the Deep Six screen play that I sold them. They sent me the director's cut to watch before it airs next week. It's bad isn't it?"

His sister bit her lip. "No Tim… it's fine. Let's just watch the rest of the movie. It probably just takes a bit to get into." Picking up the remote she started the disc again, reaching for the packet of pistachio nuts to keep her occupied. _Oh yeah this was bad! Pizza, she needed pizza._

ISHT

Breena Palmer was getting ready to go to bed after a long day and a lonely night. She really missed her husband when he had to work nights and tonight was one of those nights. They had multiple cases the past few days and then there had been a multiple fatality this evening and Jimmy had called and told her that he probably wouldn't get in at all tonight. He said he'd crash out for an hour or two at work.

"I can come home for an hour if you want, Honey." He offered.

"Thanks Baby, but I don't want you driving exhausted. Stay put and get some extra sleep, if you can. Besides you need to keep an eye on Ducky." Ever since his heart attack when they got married, she and Jimmy tried to watch out for the elderly ME and she knew that all-nighters were much harder on him than they used to be. Her husband had to make sure he didn't push himself too hard and take regular breaks to rest.

"Okay Bree, I love you."

"Love you too, Sweet Cheeks." He chuckled as Breena did, both knowing it wasn't his facial features she was referring to. She loved his butt – it was great to tweak and looked mighty fine in jeans, too. Of course it looked even better out of them.

"You are such a little minx! Gotta go. Take care, okay?" He admonished her seriously before hanging up.

Breena smiled, remembering sweet, silly memories of when they'd first started seeing each other and had long phone calls last thing before they went to sleep at night. The juvenile mushy ones where neither person wanted to be the first to hang up – the 'you hang up first, no you hang up first ones' – so reminiscent of ten year old girls. But with all the hormones raging through them, neither had much cared how silly they sounded. Now that attraction and lust has deepened into respect and love, their behaviour had matured as well.

Now that they were married, Jimmy had no difficulty ending phone conversations either. In a way, it made her a tad sad. Hoping it wasn't a sign that they would ultimately grow apart, she mentally shook herself for being so foolish. It was just that now they slept together in the same bed every night and didn't need to be parted. Well usually anyway… except for nights when either of them had to work.

Of course the incidence of her needing to work through the night were rare but Jimmy's job meant that there were occasions when he didn't make it home. Breena knew her husband worried about her when she had to spend the night alone. Sitting down at the piano to practise before heading off to bed she decided to take advantage of her solitude to get in the extra practise. Although she'd taken lessons as a child, as she hit her early adulthood, music lessons had made way for clubbing and more adventurous pastimes. But since her husband played and was pretty competent, she decided to take it up again so they could play duets together.

She thought it would bring them even closer but she needed to get back up to speed, so was practising any chance she got. Unlike the forced practising that she'd done growing up which became increasingly despised as she matured, she found the practising she did as an adult was actually relaxing and even rather enjoyable. Who knew scales and arpeggios could be so meditative? Of course, it probably had something to do with the fact that it was her decision and not her mother's, to start playing again.

One good thing about her practising when Jimmy wasn't home was that it kept her mind off her being alone in the apartment. She found it was a much better distraction than watching TV or DVDS or reading. She could lose herself in her music and it also was a proven stress reliever, reducing blood pressure and anxiety. It was an unfortunate fact that Breena didn't cope well with being alone, especially at night. Before her marriage to Jimmy, she'd always gone to extraordinary lengths to never be alone, living in share houses with multiple room mates so she would always have someone close by.

It had happened when she was at college. She'd been out with her girlfriends, Jada and Roslyn who she shared an apartment with when this guy came up to talk to them and bought them all a drink. Somehow Breena had a funny feeling about him – something just didn't seem quite right but she couldn't figure out what. Initially Corey Wainwright seemed to be interested in Jada, which didn't surprise the trio over-much. Her friend was stunning. In fact the 5 foot 11 brunette with cornflower blue eyes was already earning her way through college with modelling jobs. The girl had legs practically up to her armpits and a haughtiness that Naomi Campbell would kill for, so it made sense that Corey would be attracted to her. And since he had nice clothes and drove a Porsche and was quite attractive, Jada agreed to go out with him a few times.

Corey started coming around to the apartment the girls shared, sometimes when Jada wasn't home and Breena, although still uncomfortable around him couldn't exactly refuse him entry to the apartment to wait. It happened one night. Corey stopped by to see Jada who had a modelling job and wasn't going to be home for an hour or so. When Roslyn headed off to a late class tutorial Wainwright made his move. Although his attempt to rape her was ultimately unsuccessful, since Roslyn returned home to pick up some notes she'd forgotten and whacked him on the head with her chemistry book, knocking him out. Breena although she escaped being raped, was still injured trying to fight him off and Wainwright was charged with sexual assault and attempted rape. However even though he was convicted, he ended up with little more than a rap over the knuckles because of his family money and connections, combined with a perennially overcrowded prison system.

Basically, his ability to get off lightly did little to make a young Breena feel safe and she suffered from crippling nightmares and anxiety. She had difficulty in being alone and ended up moving into a sorority house to finish college so that she would never be left on her own. She underwent therapy for her PTSD and over the course of several years, she managed to move back in to a share house to live when she left college but was always nervous whenever she was forced to spend time alone.

She'd taken self-defence courses but the bottom line was that she still was uncomfortable being alone, especially at night but she was better than she used to be. Having said that, on the nights when Jimmy didn't make it home, she was still a bundle of nerves in the apartment. One of her rituals to reduce her anxiety was ensuring that she had items in each room that could be used to defend herself if she ever needed to. Knowing that they were on hand made her feel safer, even if she didn't rightly know if push came to shove, if she would be able to use them. It was one thing to have done the courses but another thing entirely should she ever be attacked again.

Some of her friends, even her father had advised her to get a gun but Breena was adamant that she could never fire a gun at an animal, let alone a human being. As an embalmer, she saw far too many deaths from accidental shooting or violent crimes would have probably not have resulted in death if not for the presence of a firearm in the commission of the crime. Jimmy, working in at a federal agency, had offered to arrange for her to get expert tuition on how to use a gun safely to defend herself but the idea of firing a gun made her even more anxious. So she'd politely declined her husband's offer.

Now, after hanging up on Jimmy's phone call, she got the baseball bat out of the hall closet and kept it beside her. Even later, when she took a quick shower before bed she kept it close. As a girl she was a bit of a tomboy and was a pretty mean pinch hitter, so her bat calmed her down when she was alone in the apartment. She also hid on her person a scalpel, since as an embalmer she was a dab hand with a surgical blade, her movements deft and skilful. Although sleeping was a particular challenge, what with the empty bed, feeling vulnerable and letting her guard down while she slept, she had a few other tricks up her sleeve to help her feel safe, should she ever need the assistance.

Still the truth was, she admitted to herself as she slipped into their bed and settled down to read for a while, that with Jimmy gone she would probably not sleep really soundly tonight.

ISHT

_Science Officer Amy Sutton came flying across the bull pen, her pixyish wings and ballet pumps making her faerie like appearance even more pronounced as she leapt gracefully upon L.J._

_"Tibbs, Tibbs, Tibbs, I found out Midshipman Sharon had a secret half-sister who was adopted out at birth and who swore to get even with her family." She exclaimed excitedly to the bullpen in general, her ethereal blonde curls flying as she spoke._

_"Great job, Amy. What do you say, Tibblettes?" L.J. asked eyeing his team a little sternly._

_Leaving off what they'd been doing, everyone got up from their desks and came over to congratulate Amy and Tommy as senior field agent gave her a healthy sugar free cookie from the cookie tin. Munching her reward greedily, Amy smiled angelically at her team and through crumbs told L.J. and Tommy that Goosey had been looking for them to tell them about a case this one reminded him of, back in Glasgow._

_Smiling, L.J. clapped Tommy on the shoulder. "C'mon Son, let's not keep him waiting. He might not tell us if we keep him waiting and I love listening his stories."_

_Agent McGregor smiled at Amy who was licking the crumbs off her fingers daintily. "Amy, you want to go and see a movie with me on Saturday night? We could grab a bite to eat first if you want to?"_

_Amy threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. "Oh Tyler, I don't think that it would be right to go on dates with you anymore. Ever since you joined Team Tibblette I don't think of you like that anymore. It would be like dating my brother – you know we're all like L.J.'s kids. Of course, I'm still his favourite." She observed, smugly while McGregor and Officer Lisa pouted._

_"Now don't be naughty, Amy. You know I love all my Tibblettes equally, Sweet pea. Apologise to your brothers and sister, Missy." L.J. directed, swatting her gently on the rump._

_"Sorry."_

_"And you, Mister," he frowned at McGregor. "What have I told you about Rule 12?" Tibbs demanded, before everyone parroted._

_"Never date your family."_

_"And who is your family?" L.J. interrogated fiercely._

_"We are, Sir," They all echoed obediently, although McGregor looked upset._

_"But Amy, you know I got a tattoo so you'd go out with me."_

_"Oh you silly, McGregor. As if I'd have tatts, you big dunderthead!" Amy scolded kindly. "They were fake ones cuz I was going to a fancy dress party. Have you ever seen a fairy with tattoos?"_

_"And let that be a lesson to you, Tyler McGregor. "Goosey scolded, entering the bullpen and the discussion. "Trying to impress someone by being something you're not is never a good idea. What will your future wife have to say about you having another young lady's name on your buttocks, I'm sure I don't know."_

_Tibbs shook his head. "You disappoint me, McGreggor. What have I told ya about being yourself?"_

_McGregor hung his head. "Sorry Sir, sorry Amy, Sorry Goosey."_

_L.J patted him on the back. "Good boy! Remember Rule 6: Don't be afraid to admit your mistakes._

_"Why don't we all have a family movie night?" Amy suggested to change the subject, while Lisa and Tommy nodded agreement._

_L.J kissed her cheek. "Great idea, Aims. We can watch the Wizard of Oz after Sunday Dinner at my house. Now it's near 5.30 so finish up for the week and we'll make a fresh start on the case on Monday. Come here for a group hug. I'm proud of you all, Tibblettes. Now go and have a great weekend and don't forget to be at my place at 5.00pm on Sunday." Tibbs reminded them, kissing his girls cheeks' fondly and ruffling Tommy and McGregor's hair._

_000ooo000_

_Dr Embden aka 'Goosey' descended the stairs to the basement where L.J. was standing in front of his trusty easel painting a sunset scene over Jerusalem, putting the finishing touches to the painting he was doing for Lisa's birthday. Usually he painted huge portraits of his former wives and then when they were done he took a paintball gun and attacked their portrait violently but he had stopped marrying lately so he had to find something new to paint. He'd started painting boats in vibrant watercolours and when asked why he chose to paint sailing boats in such stunning and minute detail, Tibbs simply shrugged._

_"What, ya think it would make more sense if I built a real boat in the basement? How would I get it out of there? And it beats building miniature models and sticking them in bottles."_

_And really, no one could argue with that._

_As Goosey, their kindly medical examiner, greeted Tibbs he could see by his paint stained fingers that he'd been down here for a while._

_"L.J. my good man, I have some bad news. I think you should have a wee dram of scotch to fortify yourself before I break it." He hugged his friend gently as he daubed at his eyes with a large white starched handkerchief._

_Tibbs grasped his friend. "Goosey, you know I don't drink, it is a crutch of the weak-minded. C'mon and I'll make us a nice cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and sprinkles. You can tell me the bad news while I fix it."_

_"That's right dear fellow, I momentarily forgot you were a lifelong, avowed teetotaller. That sounds simply splendid."_

_"So what's up Doc?"_

_"Oh that sounds like something our dear Tommy would say. Unfortunately someone sent our young Agent Thomas a letter containing white powder when he was at the orphanage playing with the youngsters, or the battered women's' shelter or perhaps it happened when he was tutoring the homeless youths in computer programming so they could graduate high school. It's hard to keep up with the dear boy but I'm afraid it is anthrax and he's very, very sick. The doctors don't think he'll make it. I am sorry, my friend – I know he is like a son to you."_

_Tibbs gave an agonised bellow that would do a wounded elephant proud, before collapsing on the floor in his kitchen, sobbing. "I can't lose him Goose. He's more than just a son to me – he's my universe. I just can't go on without him. What am I to do?"_

_Suddenly, an apparition appeared and embraced the sobbing lump. "Oh my poor son," a matronly woman crooned, as she rocked him. "You have to have faith. Tell him you love him and tell him to fight."_

Sarah MaGee flinched as her brother hit the pause button and leapt up to pace agitatedly. "OMG. OMG they have totally screwed it up. What part of L.J. Tibbs drinks to alleviate his messianic complex didn't they get? Or Amy, they've turned her into freakin faerie, for Merlin's sake! Or Agent Tommy – how did a swashbuckling, socially repugnant, dogged pursuer of dirtbags and any skirt over the age of 18 end up as pure as the driven snow – he's Mother Teresa?"

His sister, knowing that Tim was very het up, chose her words cautiously. "Who did you sell the screen right to again, big bro?" She wasn't sure that he'd ever actually told her but now wasn't the time to point out that he wasn't good at seeking opinions before acting.

"I told you Sarah. The Hallmark Channel bought it and now they've... butchered it."

"Yeah Tim, I watched it too. They've turned you all intoThe Waltons with guns and badges but really, what did you expect? It's the Hallmark Channel! What were you thinking? They should come with their own dentist they are so saccharine sweet."

"But I checked. They had a Hallmark Mystery category," He protested, defensively.

"Did you watch any of them?" Sarah retorted, already knowing he hadn't, since he wouldn't have signed the contract if he had.

"Come on Sare. You know I prefer to spend my time online gaming to watching television. Surely you remember the only television I watch is on the ScFi Channel." He stared at his sibling as she suddenly collapsed into uncontrollable giggles.

He glared at her. Nothing about this situation was funny in the slightest.

"I just remembered who that actress is that played Tibbs dead mother. She played the mom, Olivia in The Waltons – Michelle…no Michael Learned." She explained through peals of laughter. "OMG you're a Tibblette! A very Waltons Tibblette Timmy, so I guess that makes you John Boy seeing he was a writer too. Oh damn it, I think I just wet myself." She revealed as she jumped up and headed for the bathroom.

End Notes:

Double choc Tim- Tams for anyone who gets the Dr Embden reference.

ISHT

Some hours later:

The cab driver watched the exotic looking and sounding woman exited his cab and he smirked knowingly. He knew a high priced hooker when he saw one. Oh yeah she probably described herself as an escort or a courtesan except that she'd soaked herself in a cloying perfume that had given him a headache. He'd like to be as sure of winning the lottery as he was about the fact that a) she had little on underneath her coat and b) she wasn't going home but to a client's. Although she could have come from servicing a client at the hotel where he picked her up, he doubted it. This time of the night average people would be shocked at the amount of hookers servicing society's movers and shakers – many of them so-called family values types too.

There was something indefinable about the woman that set him on edge. She was very attractive – he guessed some would call her beautiful but there was a dangerous quality, a feeling that reminded him of his trip to Kenya and the safari parks he'd visited where the magnificent predators roamed free. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time to be amongst them and he wondered if the exotic woman was offering some highly specialised and expensive sexual services.

He could imagine her fulfilling certain dangerous sexual fantasies for some johns who had more money than good sense, such as a black widow spider who after completing the sex act has been known to eat her mate if he couldn't escape her clutches in time. Although Ralph wasn't into all that kinky shit, he had to admit if people got off in rutting in public places then not knowing if you would survive copulating would probably amp things up especially for guys that need extra help in that direction. Judging by the shop talk of some of the professional girls he sometimes drove around town, there were plenty of guys out there with a lot of kinks that couldn't get it up otherwise. Some men even liked to dress up as babies and wear diapers which was freakin weird. Live and let live he supposed, as long as they didn't hurt anyone else, but Ralph did draw the line at the exhibitionists who needed to get off by doing it in public and thought his cab was an ideal location. Like he was stupid or something.

Watching as the young woman ghosted her way to the entrance of the apartment building, again he was struck by her resemblance to a predator – a lioness or leopard following a scent. The cabbie shuddered, feeling like someone had walked over his grave as his dear old granny used to say. Shrugging as the woman disappeared from sight, he dismissed her from his thoughts as he called in to base to let them know he was available. Grimacing as he noted that the heavy musky perfume remained in the cab, he hoped it didn't cause a migraine. Damn it, it smelt like a cheap bordello in the back seat.

ISHT

Breena was tossing and turning. She wasn't exactly asleep, but not quite awake either – dozing was probably the closest she could come to the state she was in. It was one where although exhausted, all the thoughts of the day came crowding in making it impossible for her to find blissful oblivion, even if she hadn't felt too vulnerable to lapse into restful stage four deep sleep. Breena knew that it was probably an irrational fear that now that Corey Wainwright was released and out there free once more, that he would now inevitably come looking for her again. For a start he didn't know where she lived or that she had gotten married and changed her name – at least she hoped not and during the day her rational side was able to poo-poo the notion that he was waiting 'out there' to attack her. Yet at night it was another matter, especially when she was alone.

It was ironic that most people found her embalming work creepy, morbid, scary, weird or just plain morose but she had no issue working with the dead. In a way she shared a sense of camaraderie with Duckie in that she didn't feel alone in their company. She actually felt safe and yet the thought of being on her own caused her so much mental angst. Snickering at the thought she contemplated the practicalities of bring home her work so to speak on the nights she was forced to spend without the benefit of her husband's presence. Somehow the only person who might share her whimsical Weekend at Bernie's solution to her problem with was Dr Mallard. She suspected that even Jimmy would be squicked by that little 'scheme.'

Sighing, she acknowledged the other issue that was causing her to feel as if a miniature hamster had taken up residence inside her head and was giving the hamster wheel an almighty workout, which was Ellie. She'd discovered that Tim McGee was writing a third novel in his Deep Six series. Breena had always known in a general kind of way about the books, since Jimmy had mentioned them to her at some point when they were dating but she'd never bothered to read them. Until now.

The information analyst had found out that there was going to be a screen adaptation of the first book, which was due to air soon as a telemovie. Since it was based on the MCRT and included the support forensic staff which also comprised one James Palmer, she decided it behoved her to read the damned book and frankly she was glad she did.

To be honest, she was shocked and more than a little pissed off at how her Jimmy had been portrayed. She wondered what Jimmy had ever done to Tim to warrant such treatment. Sure he could be a tad awkward at times, put his foot in it without intending to and his sense of humour might ruffle feathers and feelings but he didn't do it intentionally. He was just geeky but to tell everyone he had necrophilia fantasies was going too far.

Certainly he'd had an tempestuous affair with a lawyer who worked as a field agent on the MCRT at one point, which Jimmy admitted had mostly been conducted surreptitiously in the morgue. But that was a far cry from wanting to have sex with dead people. He and Michelle in the autopsy suite…well it wasn't all that different to ducking into the supply closet.

Tim could protest all he liked that Pimmy Jalmer wasn't based on her Jimmy but that just made him stupid or a liar and someone who went to Johns Hopkins and MIT wasn't dumb. So she was worried sick about how all her friends and family, especially her hot-headed dad would handle the telemovie and the portrayal of her beloved husband as a sick perverted person. And as if that wasn't enough to contend with, Ellie courtesy of the office gossip, discovered that a new third Deep Six book was going to be released to coincide with the telemovie. Ellie was going to hack into someone's computer – she didn't say who and download a copy to read before it was released. So she would give her a heads up about what had been written about Jimmy and of course see if Breena was in this latest book too.

Frankly she was more than a little concerned that her dad might try and punch Tim's light out if she was in the book and portrayed as into any of that kinky sexual crap. They already got enough of that garbage being in the funeral business and having married Jimmy. If people thought an embalmer was creepy, cutting up dead people positively grossed most people out, which was why Jimmy had begun saying he was a doctor when people asked. She knew that Ellie had similar concerns re her hubby Jake getting physical too. So the hamster just kept on going around and around, even as she was lightly dozing.

Suddenly her sense of smell was assaulted by a cloying, heavy scent as someone slipped into bed beside her and grabbed her butt roughly, which was something Jimmy would never do. Panicking and thinking only of her feared attacker she launched into survival mode, her brain not the only one to recognise an intruder. Breena's body also instinctively understanding that the person in the bed beside her was not one James Palmer, her beloved husband. Even in the darken room, muscle memory and pheromones made it impossible for her to mistaken him for this uninvited interloper. Panicked though she was, a primitive survivalist portion of her brain, the same one that had fought off Wainwright the first time, swung into action again to resist the reviled lowlife. But this time unlike the first attack, Breena was more than ready for him.

Reaching out to grab hold of the spray atomiser – similar to that used for perfume that she kept on her bedside table on any nights when Jimmy wasn't home, she sprayed it in the direction of her assailant's face who began struggling to get away. As an embalmer, Breena worked with some pretty toxic chemicals including formaldehyde and she'd used a dilution of 5 parts per million which while known to cause eye irritation and difficulty breathing when the vapour was breathed in, wouldn't do permanent damage just cause discomfort and disorientation. Hearing the coughing and grunting, she knew that it was working and she moved to her second tier of attack since she couldn't shoot anyone, even Corey. Her hand caressed the surgical steel scalpel which was secreted under her pillow, before deciding to opt for her trusty baseball bat instead.

Since her intention was only to subdue her attacker for her to make her escape and intended to cause permanent disability or death, Breena's swing lacked true venom. While she made contact with what sounded like a sinus cavity or mandible and she heard a crack, her intent had been purely to stun Corey so she could flee. Mind, if he had to have his jaw wired shut she wasn't going to shed any tears over it.

As she scrambled out of bed and fled to the front door, she couldn't help but think of her father who inclined to prudishness, had always told her that sleeping in the nude was an invitation to have your house burn down. Which would then lead to you having to escape from the burning building and parade past the neighbours in your birthday suit for everyone to see. Glad that her modesty was intact, even if the red satin teddy she was wearing wasn't as modest as her father would like for his little girl, she decided that at the very least, all her important bits were covered - barely.

Shaking her head at how in the midst of pure unadulterated panic and adrenaline fueled fight or flight, she was still concerned about what her father had said – would say about this mess. The human mind was pretty amazing. A part of her was freaking out in a major way as she ran to her next door neighbour's, pounding on their front door and screaming out for help, while another part was glad that she hadn't disappointed her father by sleeping in the duff. Of course, though she didn't acknowledge it in the melee, the disassociation was pure survival mechanism – helping her from losing the plot completely. Time enough for an emotional meltdown after she'd summoned assistance and the police arrived and dragged Corey Wainwright away.

Now that he knew where she lived, they were going to have to find a new apartment. It was a shame because she really liked living in Tony's place and he had nice neighbours too – apart from the neighbour across the way that was a cougar and not fussy about who she slept with. All that aside, she didn't like the way she was always mentally undressing her husband whenever they spoke. If Breena wasn't such a lady she'd call her a name that rhymed with glut but instead she'd settle on tramp!

End Notes:

Double choc Tim-Tams for anyone who gets the Dr Embden reference.


	13. Chapter 13 Rash Decisions

Warning: Although it sees a bit redundant by chapter 13 here goes. The bad news is that this chapter contains passages that may offend McGee, Ziva, Abby and Gibbs fans. Oh and pizza fans may be highly insulted. The good news is that anyone can write their own fanfic is that if you don't like this story as long as you are prepared to uncloak yourself and put yourself out there. DIY means that everyone will act exactly the way YOU want them to.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who took time out to leave reviews or followed or faved. FYI Lena Reyes appeared in Season 2 episode Terminal Leave. Enjoy :)

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 13

Tony placed a piece of sashimi into his mouth as he listened to Balboa fill him in on what had been happening in DC since the last time he and Jules had come to the Big Apple to see a Broadway show. Tonight though, they were off to the ballet and although Balboa hadn't ever been before, his better half was ecstatic. Having a long and happy marriage, he'd long ago learnt that little sacrifices made a huge difference to the longevity of their relationship. Happy wife, happy life was more than just a popular axiom in his experience.

While he and Tony talked shop, Emma and Jules were deeply immersed in talk of Tony and Emma's upcoming wedding. Finally, Tony eyed him sternly.

"Okay now we've talked our way around the grumpy, bourbon soaked elephant in the room, what aren't you saying?"

"Things are getting pretty nasty, Tony. There was a ruckus at the last team building day. The baseball games." The NCIS agent grimaced.

Tony was almost too afraid to ask. Baseball, alphabet agencies, police departments, baseball bats. Oh yeah, he could see how it could get ugly really quick. After all, Gibbs had been attacked by two of his ex-wives with sporting equipment. One had even been with a baseball bat. Hell there'd been occasions when if he'd had a bat or a golf club handy, he'd have been tempted to clean Gibbs' clock himself. It was definitely a chancy proposition having blunt objects around Gibbs when he was being a bastard.

Taking a deep breath he asked. "Okay Rock, what happened?"

"Well I may have made a slight error of judgement in not telling him prior to the game that it was mixed agency teams." Balboa looked chagrined. "But I thought if I told him then he'd try to sabotage the day. As it happened, he kicked up a brouhaha, anyway."

Shaking his head, he observed heatedly, "There are times when he acts more like my five year old grandson Zac throwing a temper tantrum when someone tells him no. Trouble is that being an ex-Gunnery Sergeant, he's one very scary five year old."

"What did he do?" Tony enquired, prepared for the worst.

"Well…"

Flashback:

Gibbs arrived at the field, taking in the motley assortment of federal agents from a variety of agencies and cops, along with a bunch of people he didn't recognise. The only NCIS agents he recognised was the office gossip, Lisa Tran and Ned Dornaget and neither filled him full of confidence. He so wanted to kick butt against the Fibbies but that pair weren't his idea of butt kicking types. He wondered where the rest of the team was, he'd rip them a new one for turning up late.

Seeing Fornell, Sacks and that vile Reyes woman, he really wanted to win and was unsurprised to see Tobias and Reyes aka The Pit Bull approach. No doubt planning on doing a bit of trash talking, hoping to psyche him out._ Not gonna happen_! Maybe they even wanted to have a side bet._ Bring it on!_

"Gibbs," the Pit Bull greeted him. "Tobias says that you are a pretty fair pitcher so you're first up against the Virginia Vikings. Oh and Gunny," She tossed a red baseball cap at him which he caught reflexively, scowling. "Put it on."

Reyes took off and Jethro fixed a lethal glare at Fornell. "What was that?"

Seeing his friend's confused look he growled, "The Pit Bull. Why's she ordering me around?"

"Well she is our captain… that usually means she gets to boss us."

"Us?" Gibbs snarled, dangerously.

Tobias licked his lips, nervously. "Yeah, you, me, Reyes, Tran, Dornaget, the Homeland guys and Suzy and Gil from Annapolis PD. Making up the Maryland Maulers."

Gibbs snorted. "In your dreams. What makes you think I'd be on a team with a bunch of feds and cops? Get your head outta your ass, Tobias."

"But that's the point of the team building exercise, Jethro. To foster cooperation between the federal agencies and cops. Surely you read the memo?" He gave himself a mock Gibbs' styled head slap. "What am I thinking? Of course you didn't."

Gibbs noticed that Balboa and Mendez had pulled up and got out of the car and he tuned the FBI agent out as he made a bee-line for his fellow NCIS agents.

"What the Hell, Balboa? Fornell says we're playing on mixed teams. I thought we were playing against the other alphabets. That's the only reason I agreed to this crap, so I could kick their asses into the next state."

Balboa, who like Fornell was immune to Gibbs death ray glare, responded calmly. "Yes, Fornell is correct. No we're not. If you'd bothered to read your emails, you would know that the aim was to build better interdepartmental relationships. And the reason you agreed was because these team building days are mandatory, which is why you took part in the ballroom dancing day. So you'll have to settle for kicking our asses – the Virginia Vikings. Borin and her 2IC, Winter and Grimes from the Secret Service, Slacks and Gomez from the FBI, and some Dees from Metro PD and Marc and yours truly. Suck it up Marine!"

As Gibbs scowled at him, Lina Reyes, yelled at Gibbs to get his butt over there and warm up. Unfortunate because he then got into Balboa's space. "Who died and made her God? I aint letting that damned woman give me orders. I demand to be team captain."

"Bad luck, Jethro. You wanted to lead the team, you should have volunteered."

"Never had to in the past. It was understood I'd lead. Makes sense."

"In case you haven't noticed, times are a-changing, Gibbs. You can't just bulldoze your way over others anymore. We called for volunteers for the position of team captain and then people voted. You didn't put your name forward." Balboa responded, offhandedly.

Damn you, Rocky. You know I don't read petty emails, that's why you told me in person about the game. Why didn't you tell me all of it?" He snarled.

His longstanding colleague chuckled ironically. "Because you didn't give me a chance. You took off."

"Coulda come after me. Shoulda."

"Yeah I coulda… but I didn't. You coulda read your email… but you didn't. Not my responsibility to go round wiping your ass for you. Grow up and take responsibility for yourself."

"Well I volunteer to be team captain."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next tournament, Jethro. Now I have to go and report in to my captain. Good luck."

End of flashback:

Tony glowered, poking his finger in Balboa's chest. "What happened? You can't stop there."

He chuckled. "We took to the field, the Vikings were batting and the Maulers defending. Jethro pitched all of five balls before all Hell broke out and Reyes dared to suggest he pitch a slow ball and he blew up, yelling that he wasn't taking orders from a jumped up damned, stupid fibbie Pit Bull who didn't know her ass from her snout. Then he stormed off the field snarling and snapping at the various alphabets as he went, got in his car like a chubby missionary with a tribe of cannibals on his tail. He didn't even stop to leave the ball and his glove – lucky we had spares."

Tony shook his head. While he couldn't really say he was surprised, he was sad nevertheless. "Bet Vance was impressed…not."

"You could say that. Ducky found him later, down in the basement, half tanked and fuming about what the world was coming to."

Both men were silent as they contemplated the inability of Gibbs to adapt to the changes that Vance was ramming through. The balance of power was subtly shifting and he was no longer able to intimidate everyone through the sheer force of his personality. He wasn't coping with that reality.

Balboa seemed to be mentally debating whether to speak before making up his mind. "And as if that wasn't bad enough, Gibbs is flunking out of the Anger Management Program"

Tony, assuming his friend was pulling his leg, started laughing.

It's not funny, DiNozzo. At this rate he won't be allowed to retire – they'll sack him and they have cause. And he won't even be eligible for consultancy work or an instructing job in hand to hand."

Realising Balboa was serious, Tony stopped laughing, though he was still trying to figure out how you failed Anger Management. Once he got started though and aided by an extensive prior knowledge of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, he started coming up with ridiculous scenarios: Gibbs pulling out his Sig and shooting the counsellor, Gibbs setting fire to his anger triggers diary, attacking the seminar trainer, killing anyone trying to hand him decaffeinated coffee after 2200 hours, shooting the janitor for calling him Sir. Oh yeah the possibilities were endless.

"He's pretty much used up all his markers - fast running out of high placed people ready to call in favours for him. The fact he is acting like a load of unstable C4 isn't helping him. He's offering a deal, though. Says he'll go quietly but only if he gets to pick his replacement."

Tony shook his head. That sounded like Gibbs, he never did play by anyone else's rules but his own (or was that Mike Franks rules) since he'd become a fed. Always done what he wanted, regardless of the consequences and never thought about the effect of his behaviour on those people around him. Especially those people who cared about him.

Although out of all the directors that Tony had worked under, Vance had given Gibbs the least amount of rope to run on, the last few years the adversarial relationship had tempered, especially after Jackie's death. Still, Leon already had an exit strategy in place for him and his replacement for the MCRT. Tony couldn't see this going down well - since both of them were stubborn as all get out and used to getting what they wanted. That meant it was going to turn nasty He tried to figure out who the old Marine would want to replace him.

"So who'd he pick? Stan Burley, G Callen, that guy in the Louisiana FO – Wayne Prude, Warren Proud?"

"You. Says he trained you and you're part of his and Mike's dynasty. You or no one."

ISHT

Sarah McGee took a bite of her cheese-less pizza with peanut butter, pickle and tobasco sauce, trying to ignore the gross smell of pepperoni and mushroom pizza that Tim was ploughing into morosely._ Ah comfort food._ This was bad, so bad. He needed to stop this airing because it was going to screw up the launch of his new book Deep Six: Agent L.J. Tibbs Rides Again.

The movie really was a shocker yet like a train wreck, you couldn't not look away. She really had to watch the rest, even knowing it would be more of the same saccharine sweet, cotton candy crap. Maybe there was something that they could use to get it pulled off air.

"Tim, do you think we better see the rest of it?"

"What's the point, Sare? Not likely it is going to get better suddenly."

"Good point. But it's always best to know the worst so you can be prepared. Maybe you can take out an injunction or something but you need to see the whole box and dice."

Tim grimaced. "You're right, but it's like watching someone carving up my child and not being able to stop it." He explained as he flicked on the disc player and they settled in together to watch to the bitter end. And it was bad - Tibbs sharing his folksy past with the team, baking birthday cakes for the team and sharing his thoughts and reasons for his actions during cases. Most bizarre was seeing Tibbs sobbing when one of the team was in danger or injured. It was damn creepy, like Gibbs had been abducted by aliens. Finally to both their relief, the final scene, bar the epilogue played out.

_As Body Byers descended the stairs from the Director's Office with his father Major Byers and his Mom that the world had thought was dead, the team were enjoying the pizza pies and teas and coffees that L.J. Tibbs had gone out and bought for them as a reward for a job well done. Lisa and Amy were praising Agent McGregor for managing the slick subterfuge of looping the camera so they could rescue the hostages safely and capture the dirtbag. Tommy was off to the side, pouting._

"_Hey! It was my idea, guys"_

"_Oh Tommy," Lisa laughed at him. "It wasn't your idea. You stole it from that movie with Sandra Heifer."_

"_And it was McGregor that actually made it work with his brilliant computer skills and outstanding intellect, Tommy. You are just a Phys. Ed major after all, dear boy. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Someone on the team has to chase down those villains." Goosey observed, sagely._

"_Yeah but we still love you, Tommy." Amy hugged him. "And you're cute with great hair," she comforting him as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Gibbs loves you too but just remember that he loves me the best."_

_L.J. snuck up behind her. "What did I say about that, Miss?" He scolded her, crossing his arms and giving her the evil eye."_

_Jumping a foot off the ground the faerie looked huffy. "That we're all Tibblettes and you love us equally… But Tibbsy, I was here first!"_

"_And that just means you've had more of my love and attention, Aims so I need to give them extra to be fair. Now McGregor, the Director was so impressed with your computer sleight of hand she's recommended you for a commendation. She thinks that it won't be too many years before you have her job."_

_The team leader looked at Lisa. "And before I forget Officer Lisa, what did you learn today?"_

"_That fifteen year old boys in the US aren't suicide bombers, Aba."_

"_Good girl, I'm so proud of you." Tibbs praised her, proudly._

"_And Aims, if I find out that you have been hitting your brother again I'll ground you," he threatened as he saw her expression. "I mean it."_

"_You wouldn't confiscate my pixie wings, my platinum wolverine. You just wouldn't be so mean."_

"_You know I will – you know that it's wrong to hit McGregor. He's the hero, after all."_

_Beckoning them all into a group hug, he handed everyone a candy bar, despite Goosey's protests about tooth decay, insulin levels and obesity in the US reaching epidemic proportions. "I'm real proud of ya all. You worked as a team and saved all the little kiddies and me too AND brought a family back together. Good Job! Go home Tibblettes, you can all finish up your reports tomorrow. Oh and sleep in, you deserve it. Don't want to see any of you in here before 1030." _

The epilogue of the movie was McGregor walking in the front door of his apartment and ringing his mom and telling her he loved her. Then as he chatted on the phone there was a cheesy McGregor voiceover a la Greys' Anatomy - complete with sickening homilies.

OOoooooOO

Sara sighed as she stared at her big brother. He looked…well crestfallen. Thinking about his comments about feeling like he'd watched his child being carved up, she could see how upset he was. And it had been brutal – the most pitiless case of reworking of the characters imaginable. Knowing that it was probably hopeless to try and stop it being aired next week, she nevertheless suggested that he contact a lawyer she knew that specialised in entertainment contracts. When he didn't react to her suggestion she gave him a nudge with her toes.

"What's up, Timbo?" She asked, using one of her pet names for him from her childhood, before belatedly remembering his dislike of nicknames.

"That rubbish - that tooth rotting crap is going to ruin the launch of Deep Six: L.J. Tibbs Rides Again, Sis. It'll make me a laughing stock in the mystery writer's world and I'm wondering if I can delay the launch date of my book. I need to speak to my people ASAP," He decided as he pulled out his smartphone.

"Tim, it's almost 1 o'clock in the morning. You can't ring people now. You need to wait til the morning."

Grudgingly, he agreed she was right. Giving him a hug goodbye Sarah head off home, looking forward to getting reacquainted with her bed.

As she head back to her own place she couldn't help thinking that if her big brother had just talked to her, she might have been able to prevent this mess. Of course, she conceded that him coming to her for advice was highly unlikely. Apart from the fact that he was older than her, she only had a degree in English Literature from Waverley College. There were times when she felt like Timmy could be a bit of an intellectual snob, having attended elitist institutes and knowing his disdain for agent Tommy's Phys. Ed degree at OSU also made her suspect that she was something of a disappointment to him, too.

Regardless, Sarah would have recommended caution about signing the screen rights over to the Hallmark Channel, knowing how sickly sweet their movies always were. Honestly, watching their movies would remove the need for people to take syrup of ipecac when they had to upchuck. It was just a shame that her opinion hadn't been sought but she was just the silly baby sister.

Driving home gave her time to think and although she loved her brother and was grateful to for him looking after her when she got into trouble, she couldn't help some traitorous thoughts from invading her thoughts. That final scene where they saved the hostages from being blown up, Tim's bias towards Tommy's intellectual abilities were very evident – well at least to her. Debatable that a stranger would pick it up and when she was a young college student she had accepted without question that Tommy was an idiot and a jerk but she was older and more experienced now. More independent in her thinking and able to apply what she'd learnt when she was a college student, especially now she had more life experience on board.

As a writer, she'd study philosophy for several years and knew that Aristotle and Plato saw analogy as a shared abstraction. They saw that an idea, pattern, image, attribute, relativity, metaphor or comparison could serve to argue a position and make an abstract thought, easier for people to grasp. It was also a highly desirable skill to be able to see patterns and similarities in disparate things. One that not a lot of people necessarily possessed.

It was a much more holistic and creative form of thinking than more linear processes such as inductive reasoning but certainly required no less intelligence. And it wasn't only ancient Greek philosophers interested in analogical thinking. Mathematics, artificial intelligence, engineering and cybernetics had renewed a strong interest in it too. Applying what she knew of analogical thought, Sarah reached some startling conclusions. Certainly coming up with the solution to the hostages' situation was more than simply stealing an idea from the Keanu Reeves movie Speed. She and Tim had watched it several times together and it appeared that Lisa and Amy had too so why didn't they make the leap if it was just as simple as pinching the idea?

At the time as an impressionable college kid, she'd taken an immediate dislike to Agent Tommy, based mostly on the Deep Six books and Tim's less than flattering accounts of his team mate. Truthfully, during the very limited contact she'd had with him during the murder investigation of Seaman Jeff Petty, the sleazy Tommy hadn't tried to hit on her at all, behaving like a perfect gentleman. Sarah had actually been pretty pissed off with him frankly, since she was over 18 and a skirt wearer, _obviously_. Until then, she'd thought she was fairly attractive but his lack of interest in hitting on her dented her fragile sense of sexiness and she'd been both insulted and crushed. She'd really been looking forward to slapping him down – hard.

Now that she was older, wiser and more worldly she realised that Tim might have been somewhat biased about Tommy. If you didn't know he was a real person, she supposed that he worked as a comic relief character but in retrospect he had to be much more. After all you don't get promoted to be second in charge of the major case response team just by being able to tell jokes and play pranks. And Tibbs didn't strike her as someone who would put up with crappy work, either. The other thing about him she'd noticed was that he didn't speak like a dumb jock, correcting people's grammar without realising it.

Pulling into the parking lot, she felt conflicted. She felt sorry for what had happened to Tim's book and she was proud of her brother and his success. But she really wished that he hadn't held ambitions in her chosen profession. She dreamt of being a writer since childhood, studied and prepared herself for it in College and had sent copies of her manuscript for her novel to countless publishers and was yet to get a nibble.

Meanwhile she paid the bills working as a freelance journalist, specialising in writing feature articles for magazines. Sarah also wrote speeches for politicians or aspiring politicians and had ghost-written a couple of biographies for two minor political figures but she longed to have her work published in her own name. To have her novel published, yet she despaired of it ever occurring.

She loved her brother to death and was so grateful that he had helped her when she'd been accused of killing Jeff Petty, admired how he'd put his job on the line. Yet, as she unlocked her front door and went into her apartment she couldn't help a nasty, traitorous thought from pushing its way into her consciousness. What if she'd always wanted to be a musician when she grew up instead of a writer, would Tim have managed to become a recording star in his spare time instead of a writer?

ISHT

The entertainment lawyer frowned and closed the file before laying it down on the desk. Removing his half- moon glasses from his beak-like nose he made direct eye contact with his new client.

"I'm sorry Mr McGee um Gemcity ah which do you prefer?" Sheldon Jones asked.

"Either is fine."

"Yes well, I'm afraid after reviewing the contract Mr Gemcity that there is no way for you to stop the corporation from airing your movie. The fact that they have in your opinion, butchered your characters is not cause enough for any court to order them to refrain from it being televised."

Tim looked around the ultra-modern office with photos of famous personalities from the entertainment realm beaming down and making him feel even angrier. He'd been in a crappy mood for days culminating in an email from the director of the telemovie. It explained that after 'workshopping the story' it had been decided that the character of L.J. Tibbs was simply too unrealistic for the audience to embrace. No one would accept that he actually worked for a federal law enforcement agency.

His treatment of his colleagues was for a start, simply too appalling and his flouting of the rules and laws meant that in real life he would be sacked, forthwith. So they had decided to rewrite him so that viewers would accept him as real. His more caring inclusiveness had scored high on desirability and credibility for people taking part in the focus groups during the script development stage.

_Imbeciles – what the Hell would they know?_

"What about delaying the release of my book, then?"

Sighing, Sheldon looked at the angry countenance of his client. "Honestly Mr Gemcity, it's not looking real good. They're saying that it will cost far too much to delay the launch and frankly the contract doesn't give you a lot of wiggle room. If only you'd consulted me earlier. Like before signing this or the Hallmark Channel contracts." He looked up at the ceiling before continuing.

"To be honest I'd have advised you to negotiate several additional clauses to be added before agreeing to terms. It is always wise to get sound legal advice before signing a contract. Nevertheless, I'll try to delay the book launch but I don't hold out a whole lot of hope, I'm sorry."

Time scowled. "I had legal advice. My room mate from MIT looked over the contracts for me. He has an IQ of 155 and he successfully handled his two divorces, himself."

"With respect Mr Gemcity, if your house is burning down, you would call in trained, experienced firefighters, not someone who has read a book or two on the subject and has an impressive IQ. Furthermore, even a real divorce lawyer would struggle to get the best outcome for clients in the entertainment industry, it's quite a specialised field of law, even if my IQ doesn't rival your friend's." Sheldon sniffed huffily.

Driving back home later following his less than satisfactory appointment with his lawyer Tim yawned, feeling drained and tried to ignore comparisons to his disastrous investing of his book earnings in hedge funds. Maybe he should have sought out professional advice for his investments and the contracts. Fighting off his exhaustion, he tried to refocus on the road as he drove so he didn't crash the car. Ever since viewing the director's cut of the Deep Six: L.J. Tibbs Rides Again telemovie, he was barely sleeping.

Plus the atmosphere at work was terrible. While it was always bad, these days with Gibbs in a constant bad mood, any past comparison of previous teams and bad temper just didn't cut it. Gibbs had lifted his game to a whole new level of Gibbsness. Tim would have said that it simply wasn't possible, having worked with him on the cases where kids and wives were involved but he was wrong.

All that aside though, Jimmy was furious with Abby for meddling and encouraging Ziva to come back to the States. Not to mention the mild mannered medical examiner's anger was also directed at Tim when he heard that he'd had bailed out Ziva after she'd been charged with break and enter and sexual assault. Considering that Breena had been alone when Ziva decided it was a good idea to break into DiNozzo's apartment and try to seduce him and instead ended up traumatising the gentle embalmer, he understood Palmer's anger. If it was Delilah, he'd be livid.

The problem was that Breena had shattered Ziva's jaw, requiring it to be wired shut and as the dual US/Israeli citizen had no permanent place of residence in the US, the court had been reluctant to grant her bail. The prosecutor had argued that she would flee the country and with her history as a spy and former Mossad officer, he did have a point. The only way to get Ziva out of jail prior to her trial was to offer her a place to stay and agree to supervise her since she had no one else and she had been his partner. How could he turn his back on her too.

To be honest, Tim expected Gibbs would go racing in and rescue her from the clutches of the cops. Although he did go and see her when she was first arrested, it had clearly not been an amicable father daughter reunion, although his former partner refused to discuss it with Tim. It was also obvious that Gibbs had refused to post or go guarantor on her bail or even offer her a place to stay. Which frankly, would have made more sense seeing Gibbs had a house and spare bedrooms while he had a one bedroom apartment where his electronics took up much of the living space.

Ziva was furious that she'd been arrested, demanding that Breena be charged with assaulting her and unamused when told by the cops that it wasn't going to happen. She seemed to think that her past history working at NCIS plus her family connections in Israel should get the charges dropped but the cops and Assistant District Attorney didn't see it that way. To be honest, he lost count of the amount of times DiNozzo had nagged her about following the law but she always thought she was above it and it was a waste of her precious time and Mossad skills. So Ziva was literally hopping mad, and having to use his iPad to communicate because no one could understand what she was saying with her wired jaw didn't exactly improve her attitude. He honestly didn't want to go home and have to spend time with her and listen er… read her whinging and moaning about how stupid the cops were.

The trouble with not going home to his apartment was that it was just as bad at work. Abby was upset and feeling guilty about the fiasco with Ziva, unbelieving that she would be so deluded, arrogant and stupid to break in to Tony's old apartment instead of ringing the doorbell like anyone else. Guilty that her meddling had resulted in Breena having the crap scared out of her and Jimmy not talking to the forensic scientist because he was too angry with her. She was especially distraught because Ducky and Gibbs had given her a bullocking about meddling in things that were none of her business.

And finally, Abby was pissed at him, blaming him for her going off half- cocked and begging Ziva to come home. In Abby's unique brand of logic, it was his fault because he had refused to tell her about why he'd missed out on getting the senior field agent job. Therefore he'd forced her to try and fix their family and now it was even more messed up. Crazy and to think he used to think they were destined to be together forever.

So home or work, life was a nightmare and that was even without his concerns over Deep Six. Life sucked.

ISHT

_"You. Says he trained you and you're part of his and Mike's dynasty. You or no one."_

Tony stared at Balboa, dumbstruck! Talk about chutzpah –the guy was amazing. Thoughts of a quirky independent Australian movie called The Castle pooped into his head, along with the movie's catchphrase which seemed very apropos. 'Tell him he's dreaming.'

He settled for an outraged humph knowing that Balboa wouldn't recognise the film quotation. "No thanks – I have no intention of accepting his sloppy seconds, again. Besides, not his loyal Saint Bernard anymore and definitely not Mike Frank's flunkey, either. Nor have I any intention of trying to live up the God-like Gibbs. Learnt my lesson the last time -I'm never going to measure up and once was way more than enough to prove I'm nothing but a pale imitation. So there's no point in even trying."

Balboa frowned. "I'm sorry that the other SSAs and I weren't more openly supportive when Gibbs took his little sabbatical. We should have written them up for their insubordination and arguing and Abby and her in-training stickers. Pity someone didn't do that to her when she first started at NCIS."

Tony shrugged. "Ancient history but I don't need to repeat it. My team here respects me and they don't question my right to lead them. I don't have to yell at them or head slap them to get them to focus. I found that there are more effective ways to achieve that and I regret that I didn't discover that while I was in DC. So I ask you Rocky, why on earth would I want to go back to take over Gibbs team where chain of command is a joke?"

Balboa leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. "Why indeed but maybe you can do me a favour and tell him all that in person? He doesn't believe that you don't want to succeed him."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because he's a colleague and I know he's a bastard but I can't help hoping that he'll turn his life around. There no reason for him to sit in his basement and drink himself to death just because he can't do field work. AND we both know that he's not gonna come to you, the damn stubborn fool."

Tony sighed. He understood where Balboa was coming from. Despite the fact that Gibbs was an ass and treated people like dirt, it was hard not to be concerned about him. He knew that Gibbs never stopped to consider how his actions impacted on others but he really wished he'd stop wallowing in grief. 23 years of living in the past was way OTT. If Shannon and Kelly were even half as perfect as they sounded, then they'd kick his butt if they could for wasting so much time refusing to move forward. He wished he didn't give a damn but he did and he couldn't just stop caring. He could never forget but he also couldn't simply turn off all those years of feeling responsible for watching the guy's back.

"Vance has been at me to come back and have a 'chat' to Ziva." He revealed reluctantly. Emma said she'd be happy to come with. I guess I could kill two birds with the one stone, although I really don't have anything to say to Ziva. Think she expects me to get her old job back again. If we do visit, I wouldn't mind catching up with Ducky and Jimmy again and check up on how Breena is doing."


	14. Chapter 14 Consequences

A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave reviews. I neglected to answer the question I posed about Dr Embden aka Goosey. Embden is a breed of goose. Thanks to Bee S. for the help and feedback on this chapter.

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 15

NSA Director Brenton Goulding welcomed NCIS Director Leon Vance into his office with an iron fisted handshake and a steely eyed glare. In the scheme of all things alphabet, Leon was low man in the pecking order so it was tacitly accepted that Leon should came to his office for their meeting. Brenton rang for coffee to be brought in as he offered the director a seat.

"Guess you're wondering why I requested an urgent meeting, Leon? So let's dispense with the social niceties and get down to business, shall we."

Leon shrugged. "Fine by me. What's going on, Brent?"

"A situation has been brought to my attention that threatens national security. I'm hoping you'll take the lead on that situation but time is most definitely of the essence, so if you are going to procrastinate then NSA will take point and do what needs to be done."

Goulding handed over a file and Leon opened it to find selected passages highlighted:

_Agent McGregor stared at the glass shard piercing his torso after being caught in the aftermath of the bomb blast by the vengeful bomber Billy Sweeting. The mad bomber was determined to avenge his dead son who was killed in a naval accident due to faulty wiring on the ship he was serving on, due to cost cutting measures and Sweeting was not concerned about who he hurt in the process. The NCIS agent decided having literally cheated death in his heroic attempt to retrieve the case file before the car bomb exploded, decimating their HQ, it was a wake-up call. He decided he was going to reassess his life and the way he lived it, if indeed he made it out of the twisted metal and concrete building alive. _

_As the EMTs loaded him onto a gurney and transported him to hospital, he stared aghast at the death and destruction that one deranged and callous parent had brought about with his car bomb. It was a sobering sight!_

_In hindsight, McGregor decided, the fact that their esteemed leader Director Leonardo Chance had been abducted by Sweeting and then left unharmed, should have set off alarm bells. It should have be imperative for the agency to have ripped Chance's SUV apart to check it for bombs. As it was, the failure to do so meant it had become the smoking gun that allowed Billy Sweeting to wreak havoc and mayhem without having to be anywhere near NCIS headquarters. It was a very costly mistake and one that should never have occurred!_

_L.J. Tibbs swore a vow to the dead and injured that Sweeting would pay for his despicable act and vowed to take him down like the feral dog he was. And soon enough Director Leonardo Chance gave him the word that 'the powers that be' had given approval for him to be dealt with WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE._

_Tibbs rode off into the sunset, a romantic, yet solitary figure as he set off to take down a monster. Ordering his team to stand down lest anyone else be molested by one man's blind vendetta, he knew there was a good chance he might not make it back. As long as he took down Sweeting, he'd die happy. _

_Meanwhile as they'd attempted to flee the building via the elevator and become trapped as the bomb went off, Tommy and Lisa were bored and afraid. Since the elevator was used as their own personal make out room, it was no surprise that their thoughts turned carnal. _

"_It is just sooo hot in here Tommy. Why don't we get up the duff to stay cool? We could even make in to take our mind of our imminent demise. At Mossad we do not have the same prudish attitudes to having it out with our fellow team mates. We might die at any moment so we might as well die having sex, no?" _

"_First off Lisa, it's 'let's get in the buff,' not up the duff. And you make out, not make in and FYI that will not make us cooler."_

"_Just shut down and lose your pants, Tommy. Remember I could kill you with a paperclip. Danger always makes me spikey." Officer Lisa ripped his clothes off and proceeded to have wild, tempestuous sex with the bemused Agent Tommy before he started to reciprocate, both uncaring that others around them lay dead or injured in the rubble as they gave in to their animal passions._

That was not good. No one liked have their monumental cock-ups to be broadcast to every man and his dog. Or that agents were humping like sex crazed rabbits.

Turning to another highlighted passage Vance scowled.

_Director Leonardo Chance entered the interview room, his presence oozing barely contained menace as he approached the skinny young suspect. He was wielding a vicious looking axe that was almost identical to the murder weapon used to murder the young man's father. After 30 hours of being interrogated by the cops without getting a confession, he'd persuaded L.J. Tibbs to try to break the kid and get him to admit to killing his old man. He told his agent that the victim was a former Marine and the Attorney General was a former Jag officer who he owed a favour to. Which was the truth, just not all of it since he first met the murder victim at naval college. He was sure the kid was on the brink of breaking and he'd been itching to get a shot at him after Tibbs had softened him up sufficiently. And now it was showtime as Chance pounced mercilessly on his prey._

"_Your father blamed you because your mother left you both. He said it was your fault and then he washed his hands of you."_

"_Who told you that? No one knew that."_

"_Your father told me. I knew him at the naval academy. I looked up to him because he was a real man, he had honour. Not like his contemptible drug addicted son. He threw your weak ass out of his house when you dropped out of drug treatment program for the third time. You were a pathetic disappointment and you let him down."_

_Eighteen year old Mick reacted badly. "I was always a disappointment."_

"_Too right you were." _

_Chance picked up the axe and swung it down violently on the table into a photo of his father, inches away from Mick. "And that's why you picked up the axe and you hit him, didn't you. It must have felt good. You showed him you weren't nearly as weak and pitiful as he thought, didn't you?" _

_The teenager was ready to crack, tears streaming down his face. "Yes. Okay, I did it."_

"_And once you started you couldn't stop. You had to keep hitting him?"_

"_If you say so."_

"_I do. You realised in that moment that he'd never call you worthless again, never blame you for your mom leaving again, never throw you out of the house again. And it felt damned good didn't it?" _

"_Yes."_

"_So be a man and say it. Say 'I killed my father.' Be a man."_

"_I killed my father and I'm not sorry the bastard is dead."_

_Leonardo Chance gave a triumphal grin. "Thank-you Mick, that's all I needed to hear." The director exited the interview room, casting a smug look at the two-way mirror, knowing that Tibbs had been observing._

_When he caught up with him in the corridor, L.J. scowled, his lethal glare at Chance. "When were you going to tell me you were a friend of his father's, Leonardo?"_

"_I wasn't going to tell you, L.J. Need to know."_

_Tibbs raised his eyebrows. "And ya don't think that the jury might have a problem with that?"_

"_What. He confessed. Call the DA and tell him we have his confession."_

_Tibbs shook his head. "You really don't think that you coerced him into a false confession?" _

_I did what I had to get him to admit to killing his father. What no one else could. I'm going to call the DA and tell him to come get him."_

"_There's just one problem, Director. He didn't do it."_

"_Are you deaf, Man? That was a confession in case you didn't realise it."_

"_Not deaf, but my gut says he didn't do it. You just scared the shit outta a kid with an axe, who's an addict, but he's also angry and confused. If ya pushed him a bit more he'd probably tell you he's Mary Poppins if you wanted him to."_

_And L.J proceeded to prove that Mick was innocent of the murder._

Leon finished reading the passages, his heart rate speeding up alarming and his blood pressure sky-rocketing. Glancing over at the NSA director, he scowled angrily.

"What the Hell is this trash, Brenton?"

"Those are a few selected passages from the latest book by Thom E. Gemcity that was due to be released this week. The book is the third one in the Deep Six series entitled L.J. Tibbs Rides Again."

"This is one of those books? I thought they were supposed to be works of fiction."

"Yes the author does claim that, however as you can see there are far too many similarities to real life situations for that claim to stand up to scrutiny. Cases, characters bearing striking similarities including names, situations that could pose a threat to national security and…well certain multiple decisions and outcomes that paint the US, the intelligence community and NCIS in a far from favourable light." Seeing Leon's curious look he explained.

"Well for example… an NCIS agent called Tommy DiNosey that refused to give up investigating the death of an ICE agent. A death that was ruled as accidental and signed off rather precipitously may I say, and how said agent's perspicacity ended up tracking down the killer. Turns out the killer was a Mossad agent, operating without our approval on US soil who'd already been issued with an order by your agency to depart the country thrice after killing terrorists and getting in the middle of an investigation. You know the public will want to know why he wasn't arrested and deported after ignoring the first order to leave the country, before he killed a federal agent."

Leon winced at the truth of that observation.

Goulding continued to hammer the point. "The same killer who then resisted arrest and attacked and injured Tommy, who was then forced to kill Rivkin in self-defence. Then, due to an outrageous temper tantrum by the Director of Mossad, Leonardo Chance drags Tommy, while injured to be "interrogated" by Director Elijah Zavide in Israel while at the same time sweeping the death of the ICE agent under the carpet, failing to demand an explanation for Mossad killing him. As you can imagine, the press will have a field day with that, knowing that Chance as Elijah's whore and apologist, also cared naught about a federal agent's death or protecting his own agent's back."

Leon cursed colourfully. He'd be crucified, probably justifiably but worse his kids would be vilified too.

"And trust me, Jo or Jane Citizen won't care a hoot that you were relying on his cooperation to flush out a mole which was why you decided to crawl up his ass. What is it with NCIS? It would seem to that your little agency is quite a breeding ground for moles." Goulding stated, rhetorically.

The truth is that the alphabets might all be on the same side, nominally but they did all compete for the same funding pie from the government. So there was the inevitable scramble each year to get as much as possible and that sometimes meant throwing a colleague or agency under the bus – in much the same way Vance had done to his own agent. Grinning smugly, Brenton continued, twisting the knife and watching Vance squirm.

"Nor will Gemcity's revelation that Officer Lisa was sending back classified data to Mossad while she was a Liaison at NCIS for four years without Leo Chance's knowledge or approval go down well with the public. Or that she knew damned well that Rivkin… sorry my bad officer Rinkiv had killed the ICE agent and that she tried to cover up the crime. That instead of prosecuting her, you made her a full time federal agent after you and Gibbs sponsored her to become a US citizen. Great thinking by the way. They'll probably demand your head on a stick for that!"

"Damn it, we have to stop this being released. What was McGee thinking?"

"Probably thought since no one took him to task for his first two books, that no one would have a problem with it." Brenton observed, wryly.

"Okay, so my predecessor dropped the ball."

"Gee, do you think so? Too busy trying to avenge Daddy's suicide. Seeing an unhealthy trend here, Leon?"

The NCIS director glared. He hated being wrong footed and he'd been stumbling all morning.

Goulding decided to toss his a crumb. "Luckily, the assassination of Elijah Zavide was kept out of the book. I suspect that Officer Lisa or Leonardo would have personally hunted him down and arranged a dirt nap if it was. Or maybe the fact that he conspired with Lisa against direct orders to track down Deputy Director Bodnar using unsanctioned government resources might have had something to do with it."

He noticed Vance looking relieved, so he delivered him more bad news. "However, you ignoring regulations and procedures when you used your position to interfere in a murder investigation involving your brother-in-law, did make it into the book, I'm afraid. As was the fact that you ended up trying to shield a killer, since he was guilty. Then there were the other times that you covered up for killers. Seeing another trend?"

Vance swallowed and realised that he had been stupid covering up for Gibbs and Ziva. His kids could suffer if his involvement became known – what an idiot he was. Who'd take care of them if he was sent to prison and clearly it wasn't as secret as he'd hoped, either.

Goulding looked at him dispassionately, deciding he deserved to suffer a bit longer. It beggared belief that these books had been allowed to be published without huge chunks of them being redacted.

"What I can't figure out is why his Team leader didn't flay him alive for what he wrote. _'__L.J. Tibbs drinks to alleviate his messianic complex'_ is not exactly a description I'd relish being published about me."

Leon snorted. "Gibbs revels in his second B is for bastard reputation, Brent. As far as he is concerned, the more people that are scared shitless of him, the better he likes it."

"What about other people's reputation though? Jethro was supposed to be close to his trusty Saint Bernard for one.

"What about them? He wouldn't see it as a big deal. Likes embarrassing his team, thinks it keeps them biddable."

"Maybe but after the fiasco with the two individuals he based his characters on getting killed by a disturbed individual and almost losing his colleague, you'd think he would have realised the danger of using real people. I understand that writers use their experiences to draw from but they will amalgamate characters or create them from scratch, not just substitute a few letters in their name. Surely after that case you'd realise how dangerous it could be and at the least, you'd get people's permission to use their identities. It's one of the arguments we plan to use to make sure that the temporary injunction becomes permanent."

Vance shrugged, not really wanting to argue with Goulding's point of view.

"But… what I don't get is how your godlike Gibbs could tell his agent that it wasn't his fault that a nut job took his manuscript too seriously and killed two innocent people and tried to make it three. How could he really believe that? What sort of advice was it? He was using people without their knowledge or consent as characters and he didn't even bother to disguise them enough to prevent someone off the street being able to track them down. If Gemcity accepted the accolades and the fame and monetary rewards, then he had to be prepared to accept partial responsibility for painting a huge target on peoples' backs as well. And Gibbs is outta his tree if he thinks otherwise."

He was silent before declaring, "The legal eagles reckon the relatives had a damn good civil case against him if they'd pursued it. And as far as I'm concerned, if any other people lost their lives or were harmed because they were used as character in future books, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is equally culpable because of that appalling piece of advice."

Sighing, Vance pulled out his phone. "Need to get the legal team working on an injunction," And the NSA director decided to put him out of his misery.

"Done already. It is only an emergency injunction at the moment but the legal department is confident it will be upheld and the book removed permanently. The movie on the other hand, we were not so successful. It looks as if nothing short of an act of God will stop it airing, I'm afraid."

"Why the Hell not?"

"According to the judge, it was the fact that the books were already published and out in the public domain for almost a decade, even if they contain information damaging to national security. He claimed that the cat was already out of the bag and couldn't be reasonably expected to be put back in again." He shrugged. "We can appeal but the lawyers feel that it will be difficult to argue this position."

"Crap!" They were both silent as they contemplated this gigantic screw up.

"Brenton, can I ask why NSA became involved in this situation?" Leon inquired.

In response his colleague opened a file on his desk and extracted some pages then passed them across the desk to Leon.

"_Pimmy Jalmer, the French Polynesian autopsy assistant having finished an autopsy was sitting down with a cup of coffee, planning on indulging in his favourite necrophilia fantasy with his old flame Rochelle Nee when the new probie came down for a chat. Trying to quell his irritation, not to mention his rampant libido, Pimmy tried to smile at the blonde haired Nellie Abbot._

"_Hey Nellie, what brings you down here?"_

"_Hi Pimmy. I needed to talk to someone who gets me. McGregor thinks I'm weird for liking the smell of motor oil and well… other things." The blonde glanced at him slyly, referring to her well known food fetishes. "I needed to see a friendly face."_

_He nodded, knowing that he and the former NSA analyst both enjoyed an alternative lifestyle and had buddied up because they had much in common. Both were recently married and their spouses Briony Jalmer and Duke Mallory got on really well, too. The other members of the team were not so accepting of their sexual deviations, finding them quite confronting. Pimmy on the other hand never judged Nellie and her husband for it although he did find it rather messy… _

Leon stopped reading because he was shocked. Palmer and Bishop were sexual perverts?

"Dear Lord, if the public thought that Palmer was into necrophilia…"

"Relax, according to my source those particular details are indeed the product of an overactive fantasy life – perhaps even projection. As for my former analyst, you may or may not know that Eleanor Bishop uses food association as a mnemonic device – similar to the person who recalls details by placing them in various rooms in a mansion as a memory aid." Goulding explained briefly. "Nevertheless with so many other details that are identical, such inflammatory insinuations will undoubted upset people…have already upset people. And like your good self, they'll will assume it's fact."

"So Bishop came to you?" The NSA director nodded affirmative. "Why you?" Leon pressed. "Why didn't she get a lawyer?"

"Multiple reasons. Apart from being pissed off over the food association/food play crap she was worried if she took legal action her husband Jake would find out and do something stupid that would land him in jail. I don't want one of my best people to end up charged because of this book, nor do I want attention drawn to him either. Just as I'm not keen to advertise that she used to work for the NSA either, you can't be too careful when it comes to security issues." He observed with a frown.

"But she was also concerned about the amount of classified and potentially damaging data that was loosely disguised as fiction, He revealed. "Having worked at the NSA, Ellie was well aware how much classified information is released under the guise of works of fiction. All our analysts are." Goulding paused, grimacing. Most of the time it was a deliberate ploy by disaffected elements, although this Gemcity was definitely an enigma. Supposedly a genius and yet the characters in the book were barely even disguised – a seventh grader had more subtlety and he much surely realise the issues of confidentiality and National Security that he was breaking? He wasn't stupid so how could he not? Yet he didn't seem to have a particular axe to grind, so what was his motivation?

"How did she get hold of the book? Did McGee give it to her and if she had concerns, why not come a talk to me? I'm her boss."

"No I don't believe he did give it to her and I didn't inquire how she came by it. Plausible deniability. As to why me and not you – well she is still a probationary agent – easily sacked and he's been at the agency for a decade. And you have to look at things from her point of view – you didn't take any action about books 1 and 2. So why should she expect you to do anything differently this time? She knew I would take her concerns seriously and she was right!"

Leon really couldn't argue with that logic – he should have done something about the books when he took over. Jen Shepard had dropped the ball; completely obsessed with Rene Benoit. What a FUBAR!

ISHT

Emma Ingham glanced over to the passenger seat where Tony was grabbing a nap. He'd been tying up a case and hadn't made it home last night, although he'd managed to snatch a few hours at the office. She knew that he tried hard to achieve a work life balance with his team and it was a rare situation that he kept them working without breaks. As he explained to her, the cumulative effects of working too many hours without breaks created negative stress and its effects made it counter-productive in terms of productivity. And, he pointed out slyly, people also needed a personal life.

He was convinced that happy agents made more productive workers. So whenever possible, when a case was big enough to need to be worked on 24/7 Tony would bring in extra agents from additional teams. Luckily, Tony recognised that it was equally important for him to have a life away from the job too. As he said, after being giving a second chance at life, he wasn't about to take it for granted.

Em recalled a typical conversation that they'd had soon after he decided to return to NCIS.

"I used to think that the job was my life and the team was my family, Em but I know now I was wrong. I'm more than the job and if it ended tomorrow, I'd survive and thrive because you're my life and my family."

After a suitable interlude to express those sentiments that required non-verbal techniques, she asked, "So you don't mind having to ask for extra help so you can come home at night?"

"For you Babe, nothing is too hard. I'd walk over hot coals to be able to spend time with you and anyway, it's a two way street. Other teams help out when we have a hot one and then we'll bog in and help out when they need extra hands. We're all on the one team, really and this way we all get out of the office and get the down time we need."

By mutual consent, they decided to explore their nonverbal communication skills further. For such a verbose individual, Tony was exceptionally skilled, Emma decided as his lips sought out her nape, sending shivers through her body that had nothing to do with the cold.

As the sedan ate up the miles, she thought about the guy asleep beside her. Emma knew that having had such a life changing experience with his lung cancer, Tony had found himself questioning everything about his life. Nothing was taken for granted or off limits.

She knew full well that perhaps the most difficult thing that Tony had faced pre-cancer was being thought weak. He would never ask for help when he was in trouble, having learnt as a child that he couldn't depend on others to look out for his welfare. Having to fight his way through cancer treatment had brought about a fundamental shift in perspective and he had re-evaluated pretty much everything in his life. Asking for help when he needed it was no longer seen as the terrible sin that he'd always considered it to be. Not after being so vulnerable and reliant on others to survive during his arduous treatment.

So trying to avoid unnecessary stress, he normally tried not to work ridiculous hours but in the last case, Tony was trying to finish it up so they could make this trip to DC. In the end, the case was not quite done and dusted but Tony had faith in his SFA, Lisle Zabinski to finish it up for him. Emma knew that Tony's management style was not a micro-manager. He trained his people and then trusted them to do the job to the best of their abilities. Plus he never hesitated to give praise when it was due, with the consequence that his team strived to live up to his expectations.

As she watched the miles slide by, she contemplated their decision to drive down to DC instead of flying. They'd both figured it would be less stressful to drive than fighting their way through the Friday night commute at the airport, plus the traffic at both ends. Seeing his drawn features when he arrived home to collect her, Emma offered to drive down so he could nap. Tony had gratefully accepted her suggestion and she was pleased that he trusted her enough to fall asleep. Lots of men hated to be in the passenger seat but he'd never seemed to have a problem sharing the driving with her on trips. When she'd expressed, surprise he muttered that Emma was a good driver, unlike his former Israeli partner who drove like she was in a war zone dodging IEDs.

Tony's fiancée scowled at the thought of Ziva David since one of the reasons they were heading down to DC was to deal with her. While she got the feeling that Tony would prefer to have his legs waxed that have to meet with her, Emma was quite looking forward to having a cosy little chat.


	15. Chapter 15 Triggers

Warnings: Gibbs fans, McGee fans, Evelyn Ellis fans, Fornell fans... on second thoughts I think you're okay oh and Senior fans.

A/N Thank-you to people who reviewed, alerted and faved. Your contributions are appreciated. So here's the problem guys. I've been trying to make the next two chapters roughly the same size as the rest of the story but try as I might it is just too complicated unless I chop up scenes - which I really don't want to do. So the only alternative is that the next two chapters are going to be a bit longer than average. Sorry about that but as Stu Travers would say, "That's just the way it is. Deal with it." :)

I Shouldn't Have To

Chapter 16

Gibbs was in the bullpen late Friday night, finishing up the report on their case – the murder of a gunnery sergeant. It had turned out to be a classic case of dishonour amongst thieves as Ducky would say, since the dirtbags had been misappropriating base funds and had gotten greedy and killed one of their own. Quite possibly, they'd decided that one less thief meant more money for the rest of them or maybe it was a more practical reason. For instance, seven was an awkward number to divvy up the spoils and six was a lot simpler for dumbasses to divide. Whatever the reason, it brought them onto the radar screen of one Jethro Leroy Gibbs and the MCRT, to their detriment.

Now they'd closed the case, the rest of the gunny's gang was identified and in custody and Jethro felt relieved. Gibbs hated dirty Marines with an abiding passion – they brought disgrace to the uniform but even worse was when a fellow Marine killed one of their own. They were bottom feeders, not even fit to clean a Marine's boots so as was customary in a case like this, he'd been particularly brutal when he interrogated the killer, Lieutenant Geller. He'd been determined to wring a confession out of the dirtbag and he knew he could do it easily – one way or another. At first the interrogation was proceeding to plan, Kenneth Geller was antsy, nervous and Gibbs could sense the scent of blood in the air, invigorating him greatly. That always had the effect of him stepping it up a notch, as he expected to make a breakthrough imminently.

Then something strange transpired, Abby would say it was hinky. Geller seemed to look at him, really look at him as if for the first time and then asked him what his name was, again. Figuring his reputation had proceeded him, Gibbs gave a feral grin and told him, waiting to see the terror in the killer's eyes after realising he was 'that Gibbs.' The second B in Gibbs being for bastard was an absurdly useful moniker, not just with his team or the agency but within the Armed Forces and other agencies. Even for dirtbags, if they'd been 'round the block more than once, it always struck terror in their hearts, knowing that Gibbs was their adversary.

A fellow Marine was sure to have heard of him and there was a definite light of recognition in his eye as Geller had put two and two together and figured out exactly who he was dealing with. Good! At this rate there would be a confession in record time. Perhaps he could encourage the lieutenant to fill his pants; that really made his day. It had the added bonus of pissing off the janitorial staff, too.

Yet the killer's expression didn't seem to be one of fear – he wasn't sure what it was. He was gobsmacked when the petty little, ferret faced shit suddenly smirked, pulling out a snowy white handkerchief and offered it to him. Unsure if it was evidence Jethro looked at it, puzzled.

"Just thought you might need it when ya got all weepy, Tibbs." The suspect explained. In fact he seemed to be highly amused about something, having difficulty containing himself. "S'fine if you wanna step outside for a group hug with ya team. Maybe make a soothing cup of cocoa for everyone; don't forget the marshmallows and sprinkles, now. "

Gibbs decided Geller definitely had mental issues. Despite his fury, the man seemed unafraid of him, which was plain crazy. Anyone in their right mind would be soiling themselves right about now. Except Geller was clearly unaffected by his menace and reputation; in fact the man was chuckling, looking at him as if he was a joke._ Oh yeah, the pile of crap was obviously mad as a hatter. _What other possible explanation could there be for him tittering and muttering to himself about group hugs and hair ruffling of his Tiblettes, which frankly sounded a bit hinky. He hoped he wasn't being hit upon by the scum sucker and he'd better not try to make any moves towards his Tiblettes or Geller would be sing soprano.

Now hours later, he was finishing up the case report and collating the rest of the team's contributions, including Abby and Ducky's reports. (No one was telling Ducky he was too old to do his job- talk about double standards.) Growling as he put the finishing touches to the report, he closed it and stood up to deliver it to the Director. To his eternal frustration, he'd been unable to break Lieutenant Geller and get his usual confession to round off the case and it pissed him off.

While they had enough solid evidence to charge him and make the charges stick, according to the legal department advice, Gibbs felt like his competence was at stake. He always managed to get confessions, even when other agents couldn't. Vance had acknowledged him as one of the two best interrogators in the whole agency when he wanted him to get a confession out of the kid, Nick Whatsaname. He was supposed to have done a Lizzie Borden on his old man, who was a friend of the director's. Turned out the kid hadn't done it and Vance was not a happy camper to be proved wrong which just went to show, his Rule 10 was a sound one.

As he put the report to bed, feeling a disappointing sense of incompleteness, he couldn't help thinking about how crazy the whole place had been acting this week. People kept behaving weirdly; asking him if his Tibblettes were okay. Was this a euphemistic reference to his balls and if so why the sudden interest? They also persisted in telling him they'd stocked up on tissues or offering him cups of chamomile tea. McGee was acting strange too, looking at him anxiously when he thought he wasn't watching. Although he put it down to the launch of his book being cancelled after Sec Nav and Leon decided that it was damaging to the Agency and National security.

Bishop was acting skittish around them and Marc seemed to be having trouble keeping a straight face. Then there was Abby who was in a permanently bad mood and had taken to hitting McGee when he was around her and yelling like a banshee about him turning her into a faery and losing her street cred. There was such a thing as mass hysteria or mass insanity, he was sure. Which would explain Geller, who'd been raving like a lunatic about his Tibblettes and calling him a sobbing pile of goo.

Mendez seemed sane enough but that air of amusement was damned annoying, especially when Geller was ranting at him. When he called him on it, asking what he'd been raving about, Marc told him to talk to McGee or watch the movie, which was a comment he expected to come outta DiNozzo's mouth. Sighing deeply, he wished he was here now.

Then there was the midweek debacle of his first mandatory anger management counselling session. It had gone about as well as a bull in a china shop and he was still trying not to think about it because he was just so damned furious if he did. Vance had censured him for storming out before it was finished and threatened to sack him if he didn't pull his head out of his ass and comply, which infuriated him even more.

He was fighting to keep his job, cashing in favours he'd been accruing for years but if he failed to complete the damned stupid course, they would have just cause to terminate his contract. Damn DiNozzo, why couldn't he forgive and forget. Things would never have gotten so far out of control if he'd just sucked it up. Conveniently, Gibbs ignored the fact that a large part of him leaving was because he'd been diagnosed with cancer.

Fornell found him hours later still in the bull pen, sitting in the dark, lost in melancholia about the good old days and grumpy as all get out. He physically had to drag him back to his place for takeout Chinese, bourbon and a movie.

Several hours later as he was lying practically paralytic on Tobias' couch, he now realised why the whole damned office had been taking the piss out of him and why Geller had managed to avoid confessing. He also understood Abby's fury and McGee's furtiveness since he was also a laughingstock, his B for bastard cred all but trashed. He was gonna kill his junior agent and he figured he'd better add that to his anger management triggers diary when his hangover lifted enough for him to write. He drifted off as he imagined dire new ways to make McGee pay.

ISHT

The next day, cursing humanity for the world's worst hangover, Gibbs finally managed to stagger out of Tobias' home and get into his truck despite the pounding in his head. Sometimes when he had a bad hangover, usually when he got really maudlin, he questioned if the temporary respite was worth the aftermath. Rarely, he was prepared to admit that maybe, just maybe he had a slight problem with alcohol but he could give it up if he really wanted to, he just chose not to.

Deciding to head into the office and finish up the reports he'd been working on last night, he set off. Remembering his anger over his carefully constructed professional persona that now had been trashed, he felt a familiar surge of fury threatening to envelope him. Deciding to amend his list of anger triggers, he felt a juvenile sense of satisfaction in flaunting the rules of the anger management program. He hated been dictated to by cretins and fools. Five triggers indeed!

As he made amendments to the list yet again, his mind drifted back to the night he'd filled out the damned stupid diary last month. It had created quite a stir.

Flashback:

Gibbs sat at his desk in the bullpen at 2245 finishing off paperwork that HR had been nagging him about for days. The paper pushers had been trying to send him to the funny farm for years with the never ending barrage of meaningless paper and so far, failing miserably, so he soldiered on stoically. Finally, it was done and he stuck it into the interoffice envelope and left it in his out-tray. Truth be told, he preferred the tried and true methods of completing the hated stuff.

Doing it online was just asking for it to be chewed up and be 'disappeared' into the murky world of cyberspace. The old interoffice envelope was good enough for him and if it got lost between the bull pen and its destination, it was much easier to track down who was responsible. And a lot simpler to tear them a new one than it was to shoot a computer. Less paperwork but less satisfying, though.

Now that his desk was clear, that presented Gibbs with another problem. The anger management exercises from the weekly seminar were due tomorrow. He had been putting it off all week but he couldn't any longer. With a sigh he decided to bite the bullet and finally get it over and done with. Staring at the first exercise in disbelief, he could feel his ire rising already.

**The goal of these exercises is to help you identify your anger triggers and to assess, and modify your reactions to anger. Please complete the following:**

**Think of five things that always make you angry or annoy you. These are your anger triggers or anger activators and they can range from small things that make you angry, to situations that provoke violent responses. For example, your co-worker humming under their breath or whistling, a noisy neighbour or someone who cuts in front of you in traffic or in the shopping queue may be a trigger.**

Good Lord these people were as dumb as dirt. Who didn't get angry at idiots doing this stuff? How the blazes was he supposed to narrow it down to just five triggers - honestly. No one could possibly be expected to do that. He started a mental list: Lawyers, ex-wives, Jenn Shepard, Hollis Mann, directors, officers, idiots, dirtbags, murdering drug lords slaughtering innocent women and children, stuttering probies, weak coffee, decaffeinated coffee, lousy coffee, cold coffee, people messing with his coffee. Then there were: people not following the rules, idiots sanding against the grain, crappy bourbon, do-gooders, people who refuse to mind their own damned business, stickybeak counsellors, HR types running touchy- feely seminars – and he was just getting started. But they seriously expected him to pick just five?

What a load of intellectual clap trap. Putting off the first exercise he looked back at the blurb he'd been given at the first session

**Anger Out of Control: Introduction to Anger Management. **

**Violent crimes, violence in the workplace, road rage, domestic abuse, queue rage, divorce and broken homes, and substance abuse and addictions are just some examples of the results of poor anger management. Anger also leads to physical problems when not properly managed. Long-term anger has been conclusively linked to chronic headaches, sleep disorders, digestive issues such as heartburn serious maladies including high blood pressure, and even heart attacks and strokes. Some people have even linked cancers to excessive anger.**

**Your anger needs to be expressed, not bottled up. Yet, aggressive displays of anger can result in violent eruptions that further hurt you socially, mentally, and physically. Anger management programs aim in the short term to equip you with healthy and socially appropriate means of expressing your anger and in the longer term, to find ways to resolve the problems that underlie and ignite it. Your initial task in anger management is learning to define the problem and confront it! **

**So Who Needs Anger Management Programs?**

**40 % of referrals for our anger management program come from the corporate sector and 30 % of referrals come from the criminal justice sector. A further 13% come from people recommending us who are satisfied customers of our program and the remainder are self-referred. **

Gibbs snorted. Now he knew it was a crock! That they got more referrals from the corporate sector than from dirtbags just proved it was touchy-feely rubbish. _His inner voice argued that the criminal dirtbags that got sent to anger management were for minor crimes like road rage or minor assaults. The serious dirtbags got sent to prison. _But Gibbs was too pissed off to be reasonable. The stupid exercise had put him into a foul mood and the next two exercises were equally idiotic and pointless.

**Now rate your five triggers from 1-5 with one being slightly angry to 5 feeling like you're about to explode.**

_Seriously, who was writing this crap - six year olds? He didn't do slightly angry – that was like being slightly dead or slightly horny. Idiots!_

**3. Think about how you respond to each trigger? Some negative reactions are in the list below:**

**A. Do you get into physical altercations with others?  
>B. Do you punch walls, hit, or kick inanimate objects?<strong>

**C. Do you ever take out your anger on family pets?**

**D. Do you frequently slam doors, sometimes to the point of damaging them or kick them in?  
>E. Do you frequently throw, break, or destroy objects as a way of relieving your anger?<br>F. Do you stomp your feet in anger?**

**G. Have you ever yelled at others until you're hoarse?  
>H. Do you face confrontations with sarcasm or vitriol?<br>I. Do you often say things that you later regret?**

**J. Do you ever drink when angry or until you're drunk?**

**K. Do you avoid confrontation? Do you keep your feelings to yourself?  
>L. Do you stew over how unfair your life or situation is. Or how hopeless, thinking that you can't change?<br>M. Do you say, "We'll talk about it later" and never do?**

**N. Others ...**

**Good job! We'll be discussing your identified responses to your triggers at the next session and also have suggestions for alternative but more socially appropriate ways of reacting.**

Feeling his heart rate speed up and the familiar surge of adrenaline wash over him, Gibbs looked around for someone or something to relieve it. Getting up and picking up his empty trash can, he threw it, feeling a modicum of anger bleed off. Deciding to go down to the gym and pummel the crap out the punching bag, Gibbs was hoping that would be sufficient release for him to be able to fill out the damned form so he could head home to his basement, bourbon and boat. He just needed to take the edge off!

Later as he felt the anger bleed off as he pummelled the punching bag, he decided no touchy feely jerk was going to tell him he could only list five anger triggers. He was quite looking forward to handing in his assignment at the next anger management session tomorrow.

Oh the expression on the facilitator's face when he handed in his assignment was definitely priceless. At the end of the session, she held him back to discuss his "anger activators" aka what pissed him off. He didn't know whether to be pissed off or elated.

Evelyn Ellis was a 27 year old, earnest, rather plain looking woman with what Gibbs regarded as an irritatingly, perky manner. She was, as she shared with the class, halfway through a PhD. in organisational psychology and so was working to pay for her tuition.

Sighing, she regarded Gibbs cautiously. Her students all had anger management issues after all. "Mr ah Special Agent Gibbs, can you count?"

Gibbs smirked. "Sure."

"And obviously you can read?"

He nodded.

"Then why have you listed not five anger activators as requested by the assignment but what looks like at least 60 plus? You've filled almost three pages. That was not what you were asked to do."

"Couldn't narrow it down any more than that. I left off the triggers that were only fours but the rest are all fives. How'm I s'pposed to pick?"

"Special Agent… ah can I call you Leroy?"

"Nope."

"Gibbs then?"

"No."

"Um okay …well then, other people managed to achieve the goal. I'm sure if you tried a bit harder…"

"Can I have my assignment back? I want to amend my answer."

"Good, that's excellent."

Gibbs wrote sparingly and handed it back to her, chuckled internally as she read through the changes he'd made. Rather than deleting activators he'd added two more:

Perky seminar facilitators [5]

Damned stupid rules [5]

Losing all colour in her face as she read it, Evelyn swallowed nervously. She looked around at the empty conference room before picking up his assignment and collecting her gear.

"Yes well Special Agent, I have another appointment. I'll see you next time."

End of flashback.

Ah good times! He was still in a good mood when Mark Mendez exited the elevator at 0930 hours mostly because he was ignoring what had happen with Geller,Tibbs and his counselling session. Since the team was off rotation this weekend, Gibbs had thought he would have privacy in the bull pen.

"Why ya here, Mendez?"

"Catching up on some paperwork Boss, plus Director Vance asked me if I could escort Ms David, since she is coming in today for a meeting."

Gibbs grunted and shut down his computer and grabbed his stuff and departed. No way was he ready to cope with a furious Ziva, especially with his Mother of all hangovers.

ISHT

Tony found himself between a rock and a hard place. He awoke in the spare bedroom of Lara and Brad Pitt, to find himself unable to move. Emma had one leg thrown over his hip and was snuggled up behind him and he was perched on the edge of the bed. Em seemed to regard him as her personal hot water bottle and if he migrated in the bed at night then she followed as tenaciously as a bloodhound. Normally it wasn't a problem since they had a king sized bed but the Pitt's guest room was on the small side and could only squeeze in a double bed. In an average night where he was restless, they would start on one side of the bed and slowly traverse the bed but last night he had less space to work with. Hence waking to find himself teetering on the edge.

And last night had been a restive one. He was not looking forward to today. He was going to go up against Ziva and Gibbs and he doubted that either encounter was going to end well. Ziva was going to try to manipulate him into getting her old job back again plus help her out of the mess she'd got into because of her arrogance and refusal to play by the rules. Honestly, she was so used to doing whatever the Hell she damn well pleased and when the shit hit the fan expecting that others would clean up after her or take the rap for her actions.

A certain impetuous but deliberate ramming of a car to detain a suspect came to mind and her assumption that Tony would carry the can for her with the insurance company. She was not pleased when he refused. But apart from it being fraud, he had issue of his own with other people destroying his cars and his insurance company was not benevolent. No doubt she got her father to order some sap to say it was his fault, though.

Still, the truth was that Ziva had never been held accountable for any of her transgressions that would have seen mere mortals fired, sent to prison, deported or sent to Guantanamo for treason. No wonder she thought she could weasel out of a simple case of break and enter and sexual assault. Still the tide had most definitely turned – Gibbs apparently had washed his hands of her. Truly a momentous occasion since he'd always treated her like a favourite daughter. According to the director it was because he found out about Royal Woods and Tel Aviv. Tony had to admit that had shocked him.

Then there was Leon. When Eli was alive he would have more than likely made Ziva's faux pas disappear to keep the Mossad director on side but with him dead, the political landscape had changed. Plus the threat posed by Richard Parsons had no doubt given the NCIS director a really nasty wake up call. Of course, he was probably concerned that if he pissed her off, Ziva would quite possibly blackmail him over Ilan Bodnar's 'death' which was why he'd asked Tony to have a chat with her. Vance was hoping that he could convince her that he couldn't do anything about getting her own job back again, that no one could. Oh the director had talked about him getting closure but Tony knew the score. He was supposed to piss her off instead.

The simple truth was that time away from Ziva – from all of them, had given him much needed perspective and they hadn't been pleasant insights. The constant put downs were an insidious form of abuse that had him second guessing himself constantly. Not that he didn't naturally lean towards doubting himself already, it was just he was good at acting cocky but the operative word was acting. His internal dialogue was always geared towards beating himself up after a lifetime of being told he was weak and stupid. After the battle with the tumour he'd worked hard to get the negative voices out of his head as he tried to become more positive. To stop forgiving everyone and work on believing that he didn't deserve to be treated with the crap which that other people close to him had done in the past. To insist on respect for his many achievements that he'd earned.

And although it was incredibly hard to put all of those voices out of his head, it had been working. His life in New York was so different from what he'd thought was normal. His team all enjoyed a joke and they bantered back and forth but none of them tried to draw blood. It was all harmless and good-natured blowing off steam and he made sure that they never ganged up on just one team member, that everyone was fair game. He also strived hard to make sure each of his team felt appreciated and that their unique skills were acknowledge by the rest of the team.

He never wanted them to feel that they had to compete against each other, but to understand that they needed to work as a team and that their skills complemented and enhanced one another. BUT the team understood that Lisle was their superior and when she issued an order it was enforced and he had her back. If he had a problem with her then it was hashed out in private and no one was ever the wiser. It felt good to work in a team where put downs and one-upmanship was rare – where they all had each other's backs. And their closure rate was in the mid-nineties and life was sweet.

So it was with a whole heap of trepidation that he approached having to face two of his former team mates, today. He was hoping that the negative interactions and bad habits of the past didn't drag him back into the black vortex that had kept him in such a noxious situation for probably a decade longer than he should have. Ziva in particular, was a master of the abusive remark wrapped in the velvet glove that could set off his deep seated self-doubts. He catalogued a few of the worst of the worst she flung at him over the years – that he was dead weight, she needed a shower after she talked to him, what would any woman possibly see in him. Whatever the occasion, she was always ready. Having prepared dossiers on the team, she knew that he'd grown up with two alcoholics for parents and was disowned by the age of 12. Of course she knew that he had a whole heap of serious issues and she never stopped looking for his soft underbelly so she could slip her knife in and then twist it round for good measure.

Frankly, he was looking forward to seeing her again even less than he would having someone rip out all his finger and toe nails. And to be clear that wasn't something he was keen on, at all.

As Emma stirred, her leg roamed far too close to Tony's engorged bladder and he couldn't contain his groan. He'd been trying to put off going to the bathroom to empty his bladder and waking her up. Grateful that she rolled over onto her back, he slipped from the bed and entered the bathroom to take care of business, sighing with relief. Re-entering the guest room and recognising his fiancée's 'Baby come back to bed' look, he slid back in beside her and wrapped her in a hug. Practically purring with desire, she started kissing him and although he responded enthusiastically, he never let it escalate. As Emma's hands strayed, Tony captured them.

"Love you but not here, Em."

"Tony, it's not like we're going to be disturbed and I missed waking up with you yesterday."

"Yeah, but this isn't our bed, Buns."

"No it's our friends, our married friends and Brad's a doctor after all." Emma giggled, nibbling his neck.

"Perhaps but it just feels wrong,"

She continued to cajole as she rolled on top of him. "It's not like we are having sex in their bed, babe."

She saw the frozen expression on his face, felt him stiffen and knew she'd put her foot in it somehow. Rolling off him and snuggling into his side, Emma hugged him. "What's up Tony?"

"My father a few years ago at Christmas, invited himself to stay at my apartment. I told him that it was my sanctuary and I never brought women back there, Hell I didn't even invite my team mates over but I came home to find him going at it with one of my neighbours, in my bed. I just feel weird being a guest and making out in their bed, even if it isn't really their bed. Does that make sense?"

Emma nodded, understanding that Senior had damaged his son irrevocably over Tony's lifetime. "Yeah, it does in a totally, 'that is completely illogical' way. Parents have so much power over their kids to be able mess with them. Hope you don't mind me saying this but if Senior makes just one more sleazy pass at me Hon, I'm going to knee him in the testicles."

Sitting up and glowering, he replied. "No, have at it but only if I don't get to him first, Em. He'd have been neutered already if I'd known what he was doing. You know, before he decided to marry my mother's best friend, I half expected Ziva to become my next step-mom."

Emma decided to change the subject to something more pleasant. "So what's on the agenda today, Cheeks?"

"Meeting scheduled with Ziva at NCIS at 1100. Going to have lunch with Jimmy and Breena, then you and Lara are off for secret woman's business while I go and tell Gibbs I'm not going to be his replacement. Then tonight we are going out with the Pitts."

"Sure you don't want me to come with you when you talk to Gibbs?"

Tony gave a wry chuckle. "Not likely to be a whole lot of talking, Babe. More like yelling, screaming, grunts and laser-like glares, but to answer your question, thanks but I need to do it one on one. Things to be said that can't if a third person was there."

"And tomorrow?"

"Whatever you want to do or whoever you want to see, my Lady. I'm all yours."

"Yes you are, Tony and don't you forget it."


	16. Chapter 16 A Long Time Coming

Warnings: Ziva and Gibbs fans. Fans of Rachel Cranston. An iPad was harmed in the writing of this chapter! The person who initially picked out the colour scheme for the bull pen, Colonel Flagg fans and just to be on the safe side, Stu Travers. There, I think that about covers it.

A/N: Thank-you to everyone who took time out to leave reviews or faved and alerted. As ever, your support is always appreciated. Another longer chapter! Just to clear up a point from last chapter that seems to have generated some confusion re Evelyn Ellis. Ms Ellis is not a therapist/counsellor/psychologist but she has been conducting the educational part of the anger management program that takes place in a group setting. She has neither the clinical skills or the experience to counsel Gibbs.

I Shouldn't Have To

Tony and Emma walked in, arm in arm through the DC headquarters and Emma could sense his tension as soon as they entered. Mind you, the vomitus inducing colour couldn't be helping any, she concluded. (If a hospital picked this revolting carroty colour as its décor, they'd probably face multiple malpractice suits. Maybe even a class action for inducing chronic and violent cases of nausea and vomiting.)

She also knew this was Tony's first time back here since he'd left DC and although being a Saturday there weren't a lot of staff working, those that were here seemed to be genuinely excited to see him. Tony was polite to them but she thought that he seemed a bit detached and she wasn't sure if it was being back or because he was preparing for the meeting. As they got onto the elevator she hugged him and he smiled and hugged her back.

They entered the conference room on the third floor to find a man and a woman sitting beside each other somewhat tersely, although not speaking. Tony smiled at the darkly Hispanic guy who stood and hugged him. Emma thought he was rather dishy looking in a purely academic and harmless 'I may be taken but I can still notice hot guys other than my fiancé fashion.'

"Looking good, Tonio. We've missed you."

"Thanks Marc. Talk later?"

Emma figured this was his friend Marc Mendez but taking her cue from Tony, simply smiled at him.

He gave Tony a thumbs up. "Sure. Sing out when you're done, bro. I've set it up so Ms David's text from her tablet will be projected up onto the screen to make communication easier on everyone."

"Great, thanks for that."

Emma gawked at Ziva, still sitting at the table staring at them impassively, her hands held rather primly in her lap. Her iPad was in front of her and Emma wondered if she was going to use it as her sole form of communication. As a nurse she knew that it was possible to speak with your jaw wired shut, you just sounded perpetually angry. She guessed that with an important meeting, and she was pretty sure that Ms David had much riding on today's outcome, perhaps the former agent wasn't prepared to leave anything up to chance. She also noted professionally that her cheekbones were fairly pronounced and decided that like many people whose jaw was wired, maintaining a proper caloric intake was difficult. Emma winced at the thought of consuming blenderized meals – ewww.

Ziva David she conceded, was also darkly exotic and the nurse could see how men could be putty in her hands. She appeared to be aiming for a vulnerable waif-like look but Emma thought that she didn't quite pull it off, detecting a calculating, predator at odds with little Miss Helpless. Still, women were much less naïve when it came to the manipulation by their fellow females, especially when it came to men. Of course, Em was biased she supposed, since she knew that the trollop had intended to seduce Tony in his bed when she broke into his old apartment. If a guy had done that, they have ended up being labelled as a pervert or a rapist. So she really wasn't predisposed to like this woman, even if she hadn't abused Tony's kindness time and again.

She also noticed that the conniving look was directed her way, assessing her before Ziva dismissed her as either irrelevant or a non-threat, and redirected her attention back to Tony. He sat down at the table, catty-corner to Ziva, first pulling out the seat next to his for Emma to sit on.

"Hallo Ziva."

"Tony." Ziva spoke through clenched teeth.

"This is Emma Ingham." He deliberately withheld further information as to her identity and affiliations.

The former NCIS agent again flicked a glance at her, nodding coolly before returning her attention to Tony, watching him like a cat observing a mouse, waiting for him to make the first move. He obliged.

"So, you wanted to see me, Ziva?"

"Yes, I need your help."

"How so, Ziva?"

She turned to her iPad to reply. "I need you to pull some threads and get these ridiculous charges dropped. I will need them to be swept under the rug then I can return to the MCRT. I know you have many contacts at Metro PD, yes."

Emma snorted, mainly at the mangling of the idioms but Tony didn't bother correcting her or even bat an eyelid.

"I see. And why would I want to do that Ziva?"

"Because I am your partner and you told me I was not alone. And I am coming back to put our family back together, so you owe it to me." The response flashed on the screen.

"We were a team Ziva, not a family and just because I told you that you weren't alone doesn't mean that I would be prepared to let you pervert the law or help you do it. How many times have I told you not to use those damned lock picks? You broke into someone's apartment, terrified them…"

"It was only Breena Palmer. Pressure could be brought to bear, I am sure she has some skeletons in her casket that could persuade her to drop the charges. Or Jimmy's job could be at risk or your friends could accidentally lose the evidence. Anyway it was your apartment, I thought I was waiting there for you to get home." Ziva replied coldheartedly, typing her response.

Emma was shocked by her callousness. Her only concern was for herself and achieving her goal and somehow seeing the words up there on the screen seemed to make them even crueller than if she'd spoken them.

"Yeah right, because all my guests break in to my apartment and climb into my bed naked to wait for me to come home." Tony scoffed, cynically.

Ruffling his hair in agitation, he took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter if it was someone you knew or a stranger and no, I can't and won't try to pressure anyone to drop the charges. Can't do the time, don't do the crime. Maybe you'll finally learn you are not above the law, Ziva. Even if I was still living in DC, I have no desire to have you break into my home and climb naked into bed with me. Worse, if that had been Emma alone in my bed that you assaulted and terrified, I'd have personally thrown you in jail and chucked away the key."

"Do not pull my foot, Tony. There would be no chance of there being a woman in your bed unless it was of the blowout variety. I broke your heart in Israel last year when I refused to come back here. You don't have a girlfriend, maybe a cheap bimbi for a quick roll in the straw but she wouldn't be in your bed, asleep,"

Tony chuckled at Ziva's self-importance but Emma was furious and interjected. "You are right about one thing you rabidus canis femina - Tony doesn't have a girlfriend, do you Cheeks but he does have a fiancée, though. A very protective one and in a few more weeks, I'll be his wife. So back off my Tony. He might never have let you into bed with him but then that only goes to show he never loved you."

Knowing a dash of Latin, Ziva translated the insult effortless into 'crazy female dog' and snarled before typing furiously. "You have hired the Bimbi here to make me jealous and to get back at me for Michael, Ray and Adam. But your stupid plan failed since no woman would want such a man-child as yourself, Tony. You forget that I know you too well and know that no woman would want you. You are a waste of space, even your own father could not bear to be related which is why he disowned you as a pathetic child. E.J. did not want you after being with you for a while and learning of your repugnant personality. She handled you on to me because no one else wants you."

Emma was watching Tony's face and saw how that rabidus canis femina's barbs struck home about his father abandoning him. She doubted that he would ever be able to shake off that particular trauma, much as he might try. Some pain left scars much too deep. The rest of the crap she sprouted was just typical of the negative abused he'd tolerated for far too long from the she-dog and the others on the team. Seeing red, she wished she could whack her one in the nose but with a fractured jaw decided it was too dangerous, so Emma did the next best thing. She kicked the cow's knee cap with her pointy-toed boot, not holding back although being a nurse, her intent was to cause pain not real injury.

Ziva fell to the floor, taking a theatrical dive that would have done a World Cup soccer hero proud, although she had been caught off guard. After all, no dumb bimbi had ever been stupid enough to attack her since she could kill people 18 different ways with a paperclip. But she was calculated enough to take any advantage she could get and knew she could make straw out of the situation although as she'd been sitting down at the time it was a bit OTT. She scowled, as Emma also attacked her verbally.

"I think it's you that's jealous. Any one of my friends would steal him off me in a New York minute, if I turned my back. And that was before they heard about our marriage proposal too, just based on the romantic dinner and dancing dates and our weekends away. Now I can't let him out of my sight. If I'd been smarter I would have snapped him up the first time I met him, years ago. Needless to say you WON'T be getting a wedding invitation. You're a crazy whack job. Stay the Hell away from us both."

Ziva got back on her feet, limping and wincing unconvincingly and turned to Tony and spoke. "I demand you arrest her and charge her with assaulting me."

"Gee Ziva, sorry but I didn't see a thing. It must have been while I was contemplating my repugnant personality and being a man-child. This assault that you claim occurred; can you describe what happened? Did Emma kick your legs out from under you, did she threaten you by holding a loaded gun against your chest or then press it against you thigh or tell you that she wished you were dead? Because that would be a really serious charge of assault, although not as serious as if you were still a federal agent of course. That would be really bad but not as bad as if it was your own partner that assaulted you."

Emma watched in shocked fatalism as the angry Israeli growled before put her hand up under her thigh slit skirt and watched her bring out a pair of pliers. Tony shook his head and made a gesture that he later informed her meant, don't require assistance yet but stand by. They both watch on as Ziva cut and removed the wire holding her jaw together, which one month post fracture was a stupendously idiotic act, since the bones where still healing. Then again, so was breaking into someone's apartment without even bothering to check if they'd moved because you arrogantly assumed they'd be pining away without you.

Sighing in satisfaction, Ziva turned her ire on Tony, scowling before grabbing her iPad and throwing it on the floor in anger. "Why did you have to be so childish and go cattle-telling to Gibbs and Leon about that? I apologised to you but because of you whinnying, they have rinsed their hands of my case."

Seeing two angry individuals giving her the hairy eyeball, Ziva seemingly reversed direction. Emma was creeped out at the speed at which she changed gears. As if she flicked a switch, she turned her now doe-eyes on Tony, slinking up close and personal and though her fiancé calmly stood his ground, she could sense his repulsion.

"But you can persuade them to defend me. I'm sorry that I broke your heart and rejected you but you cannot be serious about this… this woman. You must realise that this is love on the ricochet; that she is a pale copy of me. These relationships never work out well… always breakout. I was coming to tell you I was done looking for myself in Israel and that I was ready to come back and have a relationship with you. I did not mean to frighten anyone but no one was hurt, except for myself so surely there is no harm done. I am prepared to forget about this." She gestured to her jaw. _ Wow so magnanimous! _

Emma soon understood why Rabidus Canis Femina had gotten so close to 'her Tony' when she moved in like a cobra after her prey, groping his crotch aggressively (_obviously her idea of subtle foreplay_). While he was reacting like a typically accosted male – freaking out and flinching as reflex demanded he valiantly defended his man bits. At which point, she went in for the kill, smashing her lips against his, her tongue trying to force its way inside as he fought to get away. Tony's lover figured rather analytically, that this must be David's idea of what amounted to a passionate kiss. Emma shuddered at the thought of kissing either a mouthful of wire or a month's worth of morning after breath, since it is impossible to clean one's teeth with a wired jaw. _Either alternative was gross!_

Just as her outrage finally began to stir, along with a homicidal urge to sucker punch her lunatic adversary in the mandible (damn the fracture) or at the least this time deliver a proper kneecapping, Tony reacted first. Pushing Ziva away, swiftly and forcibly, he tried to wipe away all trace of her, revulsion clear on his features.

'Come on Tony, you know you want me. How could you not," She purred in her seductive Miss Mossad voice straight out of The Art of Mossad Seduction. He had already told his fiancé that when they'd gone undercover as husband and wife when she was first on the team, Ziva tried to seduce him. She'd calmly informed him Mossad trained its operatives to sleep with enemies and allies alike to gain every possible advantage. Even taught them seduction techniques so there was no reason not to enjoy themselves but he'd refused and simulated intercourse instead which she had been incensed at. He'd flirted with the FBI agent instead.

Clearly, she had no clue how to entice Tony so perhaps she wasn't paying attention in that particular class. Finally seeing his stolid lack of response, she swapped instead to a more derisive tenor. "Oh for the sake of Peter, will you stop punishing us both for me rejecting your lumbering advances in Israel. I have apologised for breaking your crumbly male heart."

"Ziva, you didn't break my heart. You broke my spirit but you did that a long time ago with your abusive comments, your attempts to have me excluded from the MCRT, to make me doubt myself, to make me feel guilty for your failures with Rivkin, to disrespect me and my position. By the time we resigned and then you were in danger, like anyone in an abusive relationship I convinced myself that I loved you because I wanted - I needed to have someone, anyone by that stage that cared about me. BUT you aren't capable of doing that. I don't love you Ziva – you were the ricochet, the rebound. I was trying to replace what I had or what I wanted to have with Jeanne but you can't give me that, you never could."

Emma watched as the Israeli's eyes narrowed and her lips tensed. She was angry but fighting hard for her professional life. She needed Tony, so she couldn't lash out at him like she wished, like her nature demanded. P_oor poppet!_

"Tony, we can go back to being the family that you wanted, we can also have our own if you wish but not if I am convicted of this absurd crime. You are the only one who will save me. Please, I need your help. Do it for Gibbs and Abby. Do it for us." This time Ziva opted for a softly, softly approach, favouring a wheedling tone and posture, her eyes pleading and wet as she forced tears into them. _Probably by envisioning every single knife she owned being permanently confiscated._

Tony shook his head and Emma had to give her points for sheer dogged tenacity. Clearly giving up was not in her vocabulary. _Rabidus canis femina bulldog or pit bull, Emma giggled mentally._

"Ziva, clichéd it may well be but growing up in the DiNozzo family, I had a really screwed up concept of what constituted love. So it took the love of a good woman to teach me that our professional relationship. Any potentially romantic liaison we might have had, was not and never could have been a healthy and loving one, simply an abusive one. You don't try to tear down your partner, threaten or attack them when you are in a loving, healthy relationship. So thanks for the offer… but no thanks."

He stood up and got a glass of water and chugged it down. Emma took the opportunity to admire his profile once again, noticing that a few drops of water escaped and trickled down his lush labium inferius oris and she wanted to kiss it. She wondered naughtily, what Ziva would do if she sucked it off his face and giggled aloud.

"Like I said before, I finally realised we were never a family, simply a team of agents and if this 'absurd crime" as you call it was a one off, I might consider trying to help you out by testifying to your character in court. But it's just the first time you've been caught and more to the point, made accountable."

He glared at her. "You killed a suspect because he was annoying you. You attacked me bodily, and then threatened me with a gun because you were angry with me for doing my job. That was after you betrayed us, I hasten to add. How many damned times have you broken into premises unlawfully, courtesy of you illegal pick locks and therein threatened the integrity of all our cases? You threaten people for the most minuscule slights imaginable, such as calling you Madam. What the heck is your problem?" He demanded but before she could respond, forged on with the litany of transgressions and crimes.

"You don't follow procedures - like when you turned off my mic when you were supposed to be watching my six. Once again, because I annoy you. You ignored orders given by superiors repeatedly, but you really took that to a whole new level when you hunted down and killed Bodnar purely for your own personal revenge. Where was your rage, your indignation when Eli killed an innocent US citizen when he was barely off the plane and then calmly sat down with the Vance's for dinner? You protected him, a murderer and in doing so, failed to protect Jackie and left her kids without a mother."

Emma frowned thinking about those poor sweet children. Such a tragedy!

"Some would say it was karma that he was taken down, except that poor Jackie got caught in the crossfires. He never deserved your pitiless retribution, Ziva. Those that live by the sword should be prepared to die by it, too as should their family. Jackie was the blameless one and she was way too good a person to want revenge to be carried out in her name. I still am sorry for your loss, but that does not give you the right to avenge that man."

He stared at her and Emma could see the sorrow pouring off him. Tony had so much empathy, it often times meant that he had no energy left to examine his own pain. She saw him take a deep breath and his harden resolve as he took a parting shot at his former partner, who Rafaella Gordani, his counsellor had felt most strongly he needed to confront. Emma had agreed but stayed out of the battle between them, merely offering to accompany him if he decided to see her.

"Finally Ziva, there is still no getting away from the fact that you lied repeatedly about Michael, to me, to Gibbs and to the team collectively and you passed on unauthorised classified NCIS data to Mossad. There is no way I would help you get your job back again since you don't care one whit about working as a team. You are a liability and a danger to those around you."

Tony walked back over to Emma she could feel his tension and his relief. Wrapping her up in a hug, he kissed her fervently and she responded with equal passion, attempting to suck his labia – superior and inferior – right off his face. _Yes well… so since_ a_ll traces of H20 had vanished, she focused on his lips instead._ They remained that way for several minutes, although Emma realised that one part of her fiancé remain very much on alert and aware, like any sane individual would in the presence of a cobra._ Said cobra, practically had steam coming out of her ears, she noticed delightedly. _

Regretfully he finally pulled away. "And in case it escaped your notice, you could now be charged with sexual assaulting a federal agent for that stunt you just pulled. And with Emma as a witness to the assault, I think that it might make your life a good bit more complicated. Goodbye, Ziva. I'll let Marc know that our meeting is over."

Ziva's face darkened. "You'll regret this, DiNozzo, you're jealous of my superior…"

Tony dragged Emma out of the conference room and didn't seemed at all surprised to see Mendez hurrying along the corridor. The hot looking agent smiled at Emma. He offered her his hand to shake and she noticed a wedding band._ Excellent she could admire without guilt._

"Hi, I'm Marc Mendez."

"Marc, this is my fiancée, Emma Ingham. Marc has my old job on the MCRT and volunteered as Ziva David's wrangler for the meeting. Truth to tell, Leon probably didn't give you a whole lotta choice- yeah? Watch yourself when you go in there, amigo. She's not going to be a happy camper."

"Understood, Tony. She'll be looking for a scapegoat. Been watching, although I unfortunately had to go to the head when her knee so carelessly connected with the toe of your boot, Emma. She really needs to be less clumsy, or perhaps she was trying to set you up."

She stifled her surprise and tried not to giggle. "Perhaps."

Looking at Tony he shook his head. "What was with the pliers? For a moment I thought she was going to start ripping you teeth out. She's one seriously psycho chick."

Tony shook his head so Emma stepped in. "All patients with fractured jaws who have to have them wired, must carry pliers with them for emergencies, in case of choking or vomiting. But that wasn't an emergency - that was a temper tantrum! Did you notice she smashed her iPad?"

Mark scowled. "Not her iPad, McGee's."

"Ouch, that's nasty. Well anyway, ripping out the wiring means the odds are her jaw is not going stand up to the strain she puts on it and it's gonna crumble. It's supposed to be wired for another 2-3 weeks." Emma informed them wryly.

"Gotta admit guys, she caught me off guard when she did it but she's always seemed to get off on pain." Tony observed, gravely. "Reminds me of that crazy spook in MASH – Colonel Flagg that broke his own arm and had someone beat him up so he'd have an excuse to hang round the base looking for non-existent spies."

Marc nodded, "Yeah, I remember him. He was really funny, scary but hysterical. Ziva is scary but not so much funny apart from her idioms. Gotta give her points for trying."

"Yeah I guess, er actually no I don't. I'd like to give her a padded room and a strait jacket. 'Rabidus Canis Femina,' you got that in one Buns, definitely one very crazy female dog." Tony chuckled. "Hey Marc you might wanna give McGee a heads up to keep an eye on her if you break the bad news about his iPad. Can't understand how a judge gave her bail, I personally think she's a flight risk. And by the way, how is el Jefe?"

"Was in early this morning but when he realised Ziva was coming, he lit out. Not in the best of moods this week, let's just say. He went for his first mandatory anger management counselling session on Wednesday and went storming out 'bout half way through in a really foul mood. Disappeared for the rest of the day so I presume he went triple B. Plus a suspect refused to confess, laughed in his face after the Tibbs telemovie and people in the office have been dogging on him but he seems clueless. Frustrated but in the dark."

Emma looked askance at Tony.

"Triple B?"

"Basement, bourbon and boat." He explained and looked at his friend. "He started another boat?"

"Dunno 'bout that… figure of speech. Why you asking."

"Oh joy! Balboa conned me into telling him I'm not coming back to DC in the immediate future in the flesh. Trying to get him to pull his head out. I'm heading over there after lunch."

"Oh wow, rather you than me." Gibbs new SFA grimaced.

"Very funny. Better not keep Ms David waiting. I'm sure she's ready to leave. She's killed for less," he retaliated wickedly.

He grabbed his fiancée. "Let's blow this joint, kid. See if Dr Mallard is catching up on paperwork so we don't run into her as she's leaving.

ISHT

Gibbs gulped a healthy slug of his favourite poison down his throat. He really could stop if he wanted to. It was just he was trying not to think about the jackass that had riled him up so bad in his counselling session earlier in the week. Now the case was done and dusted, it gave her way too much time to think. Even after spending half the morning sanding the set of shelves he was making for Ducky and knocking back over a third of the bottle of Jack.

He was still extremely pissed off about what had happened during the week but because of the case he'd been successful in pushed it aside, until now. Damn it, he couldn't stop thinking about that damned quack.

Grabbing the bottle he poured a slug, just to take the edge off his anger. It wasn't as if they were on call or anything and not like his dad might need him in an emergency. He was perfectly free to do what he damn well pleased. There was absolutely nothing to stop him.

Flashback:

Gibbs shifted in his seat, feeling trapped. As part of the damned anger management crap he was supposed to go to counselling and needless to say, he was not happy. He hated counsellors and people trying to get inside his head, not that they ever succeeded of course. But it was a waste of his time.

Dr Stu Travers sat eyeballing him in silence, not the least bit intimidated by Gibbs' famous glare before firing the first salvo. "That's not going work with me. I don't intimidate easily."

Scowling at the counsellor who looked as if he had military training, Gibbs demanded. "Why can't Rachel Cranston be my counsellor? I requested her."

"Yes you did, which is one reason why I'm your counsellor. You thought you'd be able to manipulate her. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!" The shrink lean forward confidingly.

Gibbs wasn't impressed. He used that manoeuvre during interviews.

"Dr Cranston is unable to maintain the clinical distance required when entering a therapeutic relationship with a client because of her sister and your shared relationship. Far be it for me to speak ill of a colleague but her prior contact with the team was definitely ill-advised – many counsellors would see her lack of disclosure as unethical. If TPTB had known her sister was the slain Special Agent Todd, they would never have allowed it. Fortunately she realised she couldn't be your counsellor and referred you to me."

Smirking at Gibbs attempt to skewer him with his laser-like glare, he carried on. "Anyway – bottom lining it – I'm it. Cope!"

Gibbs felt like he'd been punched in the guts. This guy was unlike any other headshrinker he'd encountered. He actually scared the crap out of him because his gut was telling him that he wasn't going to be easily run off (and Gibbs didn't scare easily). He wasn't going to be able to turn on his charismatic flirt like he could with female counsellors in the past, although he wasn't anywhere near as skilled as DiNozzo at it. Practise – no doubt. Still his half smile turned many a female to mush.

Travers also didn't seem the type to get bamboozled easily like he could with the touchy-feely 'tell me how you feel' types that drove him to distraction but were also the easiest to deflect by tossing them a boo-hoo bone. Another trick DiNozzo had taught him.

His former SFA seemed to have a multitude of techniques for psych. evaluations but Gibbs felt that three headshrinker techniques – intimidate, seduce and befuddle - were more than enough to finesse the situation. More than that was just grandstanding!

Gibbs philosophy was KISS whereas DiNozzo's had always been avoid, bother, bewilder, confound, deflect, manipulate, stonewall, daze, resist, seduce, frustrate and charm. Basically the same method he favourite in the ring or in an interrogation, bouncing around like demented bumblebee – before delivering a stinger and then flitting out of the way. Effective Jethro supposed, but exhausting and complicated. He preferred to stick to basics even if their goals tended to be the same – to keep people the Hell outta their business. Both had their own reasons to not want people rooting around in their psyches.

But this Travers character – he was getting a real bad feeling about the guy. When he casually mentioned that he'd served in the Marines, seeing combat in Desert Storm before being sent home with life threatening wounds, Gibbs wanted out of there. He knew damned well what Travers was doing… well trying to do - create a rapport with him, since he did the same thing when he interrogated dirtbags. At least if he was your garden variety headshrinker, that is what he assumed he was doing but he couldn't shake his gut feeling that what he was really doing was warning him.

"So I don't get a say?" Gibbs growled.

"Sure you do. You choose to turn up… or not. Any further choices were lost when you decided to circumvent the process every single time you had to attend mandatory counselling. Suck it up Marine. Not intimidated, are you?"

_Shit what was this guy doing? Was he deliberately trying to make him mad? He was doing a bang up job, if so. He was ready to blow._

"Okay, let's skip the preliminaries, Gunny. You're well known for you impatience, so we'll cut straight to the chase? What the shit? Why are you so damned angry?"

"Not my problem if people can't handle a bit of bastard. It's who I am. People just need to suck it up. The second B is for bastard – been that way for years. Why everyone's getting their panties in a wad 'bout it suddenly, isn't my lookout."

"It's never been acceptable Gibbs. But because you're a bastard you've intimidated people for a long time but intimidation doesn't work indefinitely. You should know that with dirtbags who intimidate their families. Eventually, people snap or decide that they have nothing left to lose." Travers countered.

"People work best when they're focused, motivated and stressed. I'm sure you're familiar with the Hawthorn Effect."

"Oh damn you're good, Gibbs." Travers applauded ironically. "However a somewhat questionable finding that subjects in an experiment increased productivity not due to manipulation of the variables but being under observation by the researchers, is not an excuse for you going around scaring the crap outta everyone. First off, the experimenters didn't threaten the subjects or scare them silly and besides, subsequent research found that the 'positive productivity' effects may have been exaggerated. And finally, the effects of increased performance when being observed didn't apply to everyone."

Gibbs shrugged, outwardly cool although his gut was churning. This guy was dangerous. He needed to get out of here ASAP. "People need to toughen up – get a life. Hard world out there and so is the job, I'm doing them a favour. They can't handle the heat… then get out of the damned kitchen! This aint a Sunday school picnic."

Travers, ignored the response, instead he pulled out a copy of Gibbs trigger identification exercise and perused it dramatically for several minutes, remaining mute. Gibbs bit down on his rage – he pulled a similar move after all whenever he interrogated dirtbags, so he wasn't going to fall for that old trick. Although his anger was stirred, he wasn't go to give this jerk the satisfaction.

"So, you really think that it's normal to have so many anger activators?" Travers asked suddenly, referring to Gibbs failure to pick only five and instead, creating a laundry list of triggers.

"Anger isn't the enemy. I embrace it – it's what makes me go further and harder to get the results than everybody else. I'm there for the victims."

"Cut the crap, Gibbs. What the Hell are you so damn angry about? And I'm not talking about the Tai Chi classes or the stuttering probies calling you 'Sir' or the jerk cutting you off in traffic. That's all just a symptom of the real problem. Strip it all back and man up. What's the real problem?"

_Where had this guy done his training? Where was the empathy, the caring touchy- feeliness? Where was the finesse? Travers didn't play by any of the rules Gibbs knew and he was feeling cornered. He didn't do cornered well. _

"What's up? Can't face the truth. Man up, Marine." Stu prodded, knowing that they were close to the tipping point.

"You bastard. So what if I'm pissed. I lost my family – I'm entitled." He roared, seeing red.

This was the admission the psychologist had been waiting for but knowing he had to press home the advantage, he hardened his heart and his expression.

"So what?"

At first Gibbs thought he was hearing things.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, '_so what?'_ Marine. Are you deaf or just dense? What makes your loss so damned 'special' that you get to take that anger out on people who had nothing whatsoever to do with it for the last 23 freakin years?" He demanded harshly before pushing on, implacably.

"What the Hell makes your grief so much worse that all the other people who lost families in Desert Storm? All the little kids that were orphaned and maimed. They didn't deserve it. What about people who've lost their families in crimes of passion or acts of God or road accidents? What makes you so damned important that you can inflict your anger on people who have no choice but to come in contact with you, even when you treat them like shit? Tell me, cuz I can't see it!"

Gibbs stared at the former Marine, not believing that Travers dared to say what he just did. People always told him how sorry they were about his girls, gave him a free pass to behave like he had for the last twenty odd years. In fact, he really thought that people admired him for having the stones to do and say what plenty of others were thinking. And here was this jumped up little jerk, turning the tables on him. Part of him longed to pull out his sig and shoot the bastard but of course it was safely locked up in his desk, mores the pity. How… dare… he question his right to be angry over Kelly and Shannon's deaths?

Feeling the familiar wave of red fury wash over him, he briefly considered pummelling the shit out of Travers before recognising that wouldn't be smart. Mostly because he was pretty sure the guy could match him, hand to hand and he needed to obliterate someone or something. Deciding that the punching bag was the wisest option, he stood up, snarling. "Screw you, Stu!"

Although he heard the jerk say as he tore out of the room, "Well, that went well." Jethro could not have known that Stuart Travers Ph.D. was genuinely pleased with the outcome, as opposed to berating himself for blowing it. Had he possessed this information the NCIS agent would have been even more troubled, especially about the prospect for next time.

End of flashback

Gibbs checked his watch. It was lunchtime – perhaps coffee would help. Typically, it didn't occur to him that eating anything that could be regarded as actual food might actually improve his situation, preferring to get by instead on several large mugs of coffee. He may have ultimately opted not to pull the trigger all those years ago, but that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it or live life to the full. He ate only enough to maintain existence, but that was all.

As he made his way up to the kitchen he tried to stop thinking about the fact that he was scheduled for another session with Travers next week. Leon had been pretty clear about the consequences of not showing up. Was it some sort of karmic joke for all those times he'd told his team, "Come in late again, don't bother coming in at all?"

Damn the man – he'd been there for him when Jackie was killed. Why was he giving him such a hard time now?


End file.
